


the quantum mystery of park seonghwa

by kyeoesc



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, BORDERLINE necromancy, Dimension Travel, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Necromancy, Recreational Drug Use, Sad Ending, Science Fiction, We'll get there, because its actually dimension travel, like nothing goes right for anyone i'm sorry, the other the ateez members cameo here and there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27550048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyeoesc/pseuds/kyeoesc
Summary: Wooyoung saw Kang Yeosang from the other side of the room, smoking a blunt amidst the crowd moving around, music blasting through his eardrums. To say Yeosang was good looking was an understatement. But behind his beautiful face was a secret held together by a dead lover; a machine that would change Wooyoung's life as he knew it.
Relationships: Jung Wooyoung/Kang Yeosang, Kang Yeosang/Park Seonghwa, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26





	1. the book

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome! I'm trying something new in which I dabble in subjects I'm not too familiar with - science. I tried my best. Anyway I hope you like it!
> 
> • Tagged as explicit sexual content because there will be love making in later chapters, however I'll try to mark them to keep the rating at mature so it'll be more accessible  
> • Playlist is the first word of the chapter!  
> • Please do leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed it uwu

“History has shown us that it is those who possess wisdom who are the greatest fools.” - _ Okabe Rintaro, Steins;Gate _

-

[Wooyoung](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0xiXIbudR0m98yyVlqjsx2?si=R-GmVMh8RS2yvXCdvVAowA) saw Kang Yeosang from the other side of the room, smoking a blunt amidst the crowd moving around, music blasting through his eardrums. To say Yeosang was good looking was an understatement. It wasn’t just the perfectly crafted brows, arching downwards towards his nose bridge, or the prominent nose and thin lips, or even the eyes that said everything yet nothing at all. It was the way he wasn’t even really there. He puffed and passed and remained in the group; but every other moment his eyes would linger outside the circle, or he would just look down at his hands on the sofa arm. He was beautiful.

“Here’s your dose of alcohol for the night, sir,” Yunho introduced in a grandeur voice, handing a plastic cup filled with beer to Wooyoung, his other hand holding his own. Seeing how Yunho was already louder than usual, Wooyoung guessed that he already had more than one cup on his way back. Wooyoung glanced back at Yeosang as he took a sip from the red cup. The mysterious boy was smiling at something the girl next to him said, responded with a few words that made the girl chuckle, then looked away again. 

“You see any friends?” Yunho asked loudly again. “‘Cause my lab mate Mingi’s waiting for me for a game of foosball. You’re invited, if you’re interested.”

“Uh,” Wooyoung hesitated. He weighed his options; he could go and make friends or sit there and continue staring at his crush. He decided to go with Yunho in the end, giving one last glance at Yeosang before leaving his small corner. Wooyoung was about to look away when Yeosang looked up and caught his eyes. Wooyoung felt the second stretch before stripping the eye contact, slightly embarrassed that he was caught staring. He tried his best not to show it.

The night went by fast; dark rooms lit by small LED bulbs of many colors, the music ringing in his ears a blur of incoherent noises, crowds cheering and booing and shouting as fit. Wooyoung went back to his dorm soundly that night. The contrasting quiet made him sober up slightly, Yunho trying his best not to giggle at every step he took. As they got into their rooms, Wooyoung expertly unlocked the ancient knob. Yunho stumbled around as he made his way through the doorway, throwing himself on the lower bunk - Wooyoung’s bunk, too intoxicated to move any further. Wooyoung stretched his lips. He tried to climb the ladder to the top bunk, but wobbled as he reached the second step. Realizing the danger, he decided to pull Yunho’s covers and threw them on the floor, proceeding to lie on the thick mass of cloth. He passed out not long after.

Morning came and the sun shone brightly through Wooyoung’s sleepy eyelids. He laid awake with his eyes shut for a few minutes before he felt the contents of his stomach come up his throat. He pushed himself up, trying to keep the acid in his mouth, his feet scrambling for the bathroom. He swung open the door and reached for the bowl, the brown substance smelling of beer and digested food, reeking through Wooyoung’s nostrils and pouring out of his mouth. Only after a few seconds of trying to ease his throat did he notice the feet by the sink. He looked up to see the beautiful man he stared at last night looking down at him. One of his hands was scratching his torso from under his white t-shirt, the other hand brushing his teeth. Wooyoung sat there in awe before looking back down at his vomit in embarrassment. He flushed in an instant then stood up, wiping his mouth. The restrooms were shared in between two rooms in this hall. Unluckily, out of all the people on this campus, he had to share it with Kang Yeosang.

Wooyoung headed out, saying a “Sorry” as briefly as he could. 

“No worries,” Yeosang replied, completely unbothered, or if he was he didn’t show it. Yet again, Yeosang lived in a world of his own and even Wooyoung’s juvenile act couldn’t break that wall.

It was a Saturday and Wooyoung had no plans. Last Wednesday was the first day of class and this weekend had been left pretty empty except for a few reading assignments which he had no plan of doing until the very last minute. So when he walked out of his dorm room at the same time as Yeosang, he tried his best to not show his nerves as he asked if Yeosang was free.

“Why?” Yeosang asked, his expression unreadable.

“Um, well, I don’t really have anything to do so I thought I’d buy you a drink for this morning’s incident.”

“You don’t owe me anything for that,” Yeosang replied bluntly.

“Yea but, still…” Wooyoung’s voice trailed. Yeosang smiled unexpectedly. 

“Okay, yea, I’m not doing anything right now.”

That night, Wooyoung’s thoughts went to Yeosang as he laid in bed. He thought about how easily he opened up to Yeosang after buying him a bottle of vitamin water and talked about how he hated his major but took it because the market calls for programmers in this day and age. He did realize that Yeosang was still refraining himself; the darkness in his eyes that he saw the night before was still there. Wooyoung was just happy he could spend some time with someone new, and had a good time at it too. He felt comfortable.  _ Maybe it was because he’s a total stranger _ , Wooyoung thought to himself.

The semester went on busily, and it took a few weeks before Yeosang asked Wooyoung if he was going to an off campus party the coming Saturday.

“Yunho mentioned it but I don’t even know who’s hosting,” Wooyoung told Yeosang. They were grabbing something to bite at the dorm’s dining hall before their late morning classes. Wooyoung hadn’t been there often, and he wondered if Yeosang went there every morning, because he hadn’t seen Yeosang eating in the dining hall before.

“It’s some third year, Choi Chanhee, I think was the name. Some unregistered frat, I guess. I only heard from my classmate. Anyone in the engineering school’s invited.” Yeosang was a second year Mechanical Engineering major. 

“Do you even like parties?” Wooyoung asked.

“Depends,” Yeosang said, munching on his danish pastry.

“On what?”

“On who’s going to be there,” he replied tartly. “So are you going or not?”

“It sounds like you’re only going if I’m going,” Wooyoung smirked.

“Yea, and?” Yeosang questioned. His doe eyes looked up at Wooyoung, daring him to say anything more. Wooyoung felt the heat in his chest build.  _ Those dark eyes are magnificently scary _ , Wooyoung thought to himself.

“I’ll let you know if I decide to go,” Wooyoung said, swallowing his sandwich.

Wooyoung ditched Yunho at the party when he saw Yeosang. He joined Yeosang’s usual puff and pass circle, but with Wooyoung around Yeosang seemed more animated, entertaining Wooyoung’s questions and remarks. Later as the party subsided Yeosang told Wooyoung he wanted to leave. Wooyoung went to look for Yunho to tell him he’s heading back without him, and Yunho could only smile at his smittened roommate. The night was cold, but their breaths felt warm as they laughed, their legs light as they walked out the townhouse. As they entered the campus they passed the Engineering building. Yeosang looked at it fondly, smiling as he asked Wooyoung if he wanted to stop by.

“Do you need to get something?” Wooyoung asked, confused.

“I want to show you something,” Yeosang told him, his eyes trailing to the walkway in front of them. “Something I’m working on.”

“For your class?”

“Yea kinda, it’s like a long term project, it’s big enough for my senior design class, I think,” Yeosang mused.

“That sounds really cool,” Wooyoung said. “Yea sure, let’s go see it.”

Wooyoung swallowed his alcohol-reeked breath as they stepped into the locked building using Yeosang’s student ID. It was eerily quiet, even with the lights lit and students visibly working in the ground level computer labs. Yeosang invited Wooyoung to the second floor of the old building where the analog mechanical machines are, a place foreign to the ComSci major whose classes were mostly in the new building with the fancy new computers. Yeosang led the other into one of the labs where it was mostly worktables, big and wide spread across the long room in twos, with a total of 8 worktables. Yeosang left the room dark, the only light source coming through the tall windows, and walked in between the worktables towards a door at the very end of the room, unlocking it with his ID again. Wooyoung followed quietly, his imagination running wild about what Yeosang had under his sleeve. 

The door swung heavily open, leading to a dark and musty room. Yeosang switched on the lights, revealing a metal platform in the middle of what Wooyoung now identified as an abandoned closet. Wooyoung’s eyes widened at the contraption. The platform extended on two ends, one being a straight metal bar that held a tablet-like device at hip height outwards, the other a taller metal bar that bent and tipped downward at the end, a sharp point pointing downwards. The metals were bound together messily, screws coming out at certain points where the metal angles and bends, but it looked sturdy despite it. Yeosang went towards the machine, tapping away at the tablet.

“What is this?” Wooyoung asked in a whisper, afraid that even the slightest sound would trigger an alarm of some sort.

“Have you ever heard of alternate dimensions, Wooyoung?” Yeosang asked, his voice clearly holding something back. Wooyoung recognized it as excitement, but the thought scared him.

“Uhm, in movies, yea,” Wooyoung replied.

“Well, don’t you think it’s worth a shot to try and access those alternate dimensions?” Yeosang finally looked up at Wooyoung, his pupils were dilated. Wooyoung didn’t know if it was from the weed or pure high from this idea of his.

“I mean, if I knew how then-”

“Well there had always been formulas and experiments made, all over the world, recorded but not published, because the entire idea is too dangerous to explore,” Yeosang told Wooyoung. “They censor it and I had to go through so many channels to find out more, but I don’t know, I think I want to give it a shot. After doing some research I don’t think it’s impossible, the physics of it all…” Yeosang trailed, mumbling to himself about the nature of atoms and how it’s all about morphing them at the right speed, the right time. 

“Yeosang, are you sure it’s safe though?” Wooyoung asked. “I mean you said it yourself, even the idea itself is dangerous.”

Yeosang quieted down. His expression turned slightly darker, looking up at Wooyoung. “When you have something to fight for, it’s worth it.”

Wooyoung didn’t know what to say. Yeosang, too, didn’t explain further, so Wooyoung coughed nervously, coming closer to the machine. Wooyoung wondered if Yeosang’s eyes could grow any darker, the machine casting shadows on his eyes. He stood next to Yeosang and tapped on the tablet’s screen.

“So how does it work?”

-

Park Seonghwa was a final year student working as a research assistant for one of the professors who had taken a liking to him. He frequented the library for all the books he had to pick up and skim through for research proof, writing down notes and citations. He was a valued member of the department; a solid memory as well as a flexible mind that often found unconventional solutions to problems. Not to mention his discipline and passion towards the research topic. The only thing he lacked was a social life.

It wasn’t because he lacked social skills, nor was he unattractive, in fact quite the opposite. Colleagues and underclassmen had always approached him with interest, but he kept to himself, rejecting post-lab dinner meetups or drinking gatherings. Some say he was cocky; he knew he was too good for the people around him, so he didn’t let anyone in. Others say he’s looking for something more; something other than just a colleague to play board games with or a drinking friend. What that was, no one knew, but it was what was missing in Seonghwa, and that’s what kept him between the library and labs and his apartment.

Kim Hongjoong didn’t know this about Seonghwa when he dropped a note on his table as he passed. He was in the library for a group meeting but when he saw the tall man with a high nose and eyes as round as the pebbles that scattered the landscaping just outside the building, lips tight as he focused on the words in front of him, tapping the mechanical pencil in hand on the edge of the thick book, he knew that he wanted that man’s attention. At first he was worried that he wouldn’t even notice the note, peering in between the books that stood in the shelves just in front of Seonghwa’s table. But as the man blinked, looking away from the page for a second to reach for his drink, he took the note with his delicate fingers, and Hongjoong’s heart pounded in his chest.  _ What was I thinking, pulling a stunt like that?  _ It didn’t matter now; the deed has been done.

_ did u know that potatoes have 2 more chromosomes than a human being? _

Hongjoong watched as the man smirked, his pretty teeth showing behind an awkwardly sweet smile that made the butterflies in his stomach crash into each other as if in a caffeine high. Then they jumped up and down as the man looked around, looking for the culprit. Hongjoong held his breath as their eyes caught, frozen in place between the books. The man looked at him, a curious expression on his face, one hand raising slowly into a wave. Hongjoong didn’t know what was going on when he stepped back before walking away, watching the floor below him as his feet stepped through the room as if it was on fire. All he knew was that he was a nervous mess, but it didn’t stop him from trying again.

The next day, Hongjoong felt a mixture of surprise, excitement, and dread when he saw the man again at the same place, still befriended by his iPad and three thick books stacked on top of each other. He didn’t know what brought him there; art majors could find more reasons to be in a studio, working on their pieces rather than in libraries studying. He didn’t know how he was able to braven himself to stand in front of the man, frozen in place for a whole minute before he looked up, curious of the figure that stood still instead of taking the seat. His eyes widened in recognition, then squeezed back into crescents, his teeth making another appearance. Hongjoong felt his heart pump sideways; it was weird, how organs can physically feel like they're flying all over the place when they just sit there, doing their part in the making of a human life. 

“Chromosome guy.”

Hongjoong felt a laughter sputter from his trachea, then a loud shush sounded. He was manic, he was so sure he was, what was he doing, what was he doing, he’s gone crazy for real this time. 

“Don’t you want to sit down?”

Hongjoong pulled back a chair, carefully lifting it so the legs didn't drag, but the arms of the chair knocked loudly on the table surface, and Hongjoong tightened his lips, squeezing his eyes shut as he prepared to be shushed again. No one shushed him, and he was thankful. He sat down carefully and pulled the chair back in, placing his laptop in front of him. The man had been watching him, but soon went back to his books. Hongjoong felt a slight disappointment. He wasn’t here to study. He was here for this gorgeous guy, and yet there he was, (almost) completely ignoring him. Chromosome guy. Then that obnoxious laugh. Could he be even more embarrassing?

Hongjoong’s eyelids fluttered up when Seonghwa stood up, the heavy chair groaning as he pushed it back. The taller tried to remember where he last saw a book that contained something he needed. He browsed the shelves, looking at the tan and maroon and blue buckram covers, skimming through the authors and titles; he was so sure it was on this shelf. Between the hardcovers, he saw a spine that was curiously out of place; two inches shorter than the other books, half an inch thicker, gold lettering absent. He ran his index finger on the top and pulled it to see the cover, but there was no title on the front either. Seonghwa curiously pulled it out and flipped the hardcover open. A line of serif wrote “Time and Atoms Relations” by Werner Heisenberg. At the bottom of the page was a note written in blue ballpoint ink. 

_ PSH _

_ I hope this finds you well. Wait for me. _

_ KYS _

Seonghwa felt his heart pound in his chest. PSH. Those are his initials. Who was KYS? It was familiar, but Seonghwa couldn’t put his finger on where he had seen it before. Was this left here for him? If he recognized the initials of the writer, then it must be for him, right? Seonghwa’s brain ran at a thousand miles per second, trying to recall every name that he had bumped into in his twenty three years of life. KYS… KYS… 

Seonghwa took the book with him. It wasn’t what he was looking for, but it might have been what he needed.

When he returned to his seat Hongjoong looked up again, completely unfocused on the review he was supposed to write for his electronic arts class. He thought it’d be an easy pass where he can make videos and learn new softwares but so far he had had to soldertogether a sound board and read research papers about living organisms, which was a lot more interesting but also too burdening to follow along with his other classes for the semester. The professor was a bit of a crazy scientist type, but Hongjoong liked that. No student liked writing papers though.

“So,” Hongjoong tried to sigh casually. “What are you studying?”

Seonghwa looked up from the book he had brought back - the one he was looking for - slightly threatening as his jaws clenched. He tapped his pencil on the edge of the book agitatedly. “I’m a biochem major. Currently an RA so I’m looking up some stuff for my professor.”

“Cool,” Hongjoong smiled, trying to ease the tension. He could tell that the man before him didn’t like that he was being bothered but Hongjoong tried to be friendly anyway. “So you knew that potatoes had 48 chromosomes.”

“I didn’t, but it’s not really surprising,” Seonghwa replied.  _ Okay,  _ Hongjoong thought to himself.  _ So a conversation has been made. Now I have to keep going. _

“I only knew because my crazy art professor is making us look up living organisms to do research on. So I’m thinking, potatoes are pretty cool.”

“Yea, cool.” The man looked back down at his book. Hongjoong felt his heart sink. 

“Hey um,” Hongjoong whispered, leaning closer to the taller. “I know you’re busy but I was wondering if you wanted to uh, have drinks or something, after, I don’t know, when you’re free. No pressure.”

Seonghwa sighed and looked up at Hongjoong. “If I say yes will you stop talking to me?”

“Yes.” Hongjoong exaggerated a nod with closed eyes.

“Okay, sure,” the man replied. “But I finish late so.”

“Not a problem,” Hongjoong smiled, whispering loudly. “I have a paper to write.” He pointed at his laptop screen excitedly but the taller wasn’t looking. It didn’t bother Hongjoong; he had done what he wanted to do eons ago (well, yesterday) and now it was a done deal; he got a date with Mr Long Legs.

“One last thing,” Hongjoong whispered again. Seonghwa didn’t look up but Hongjoong knew he heard him. “I didn’t catch your name.”

Seonghwa pulled out the piece of paper that Hongjoong had written his chromosome fun fact on; he was a sentimental guy and had kept it in his notebook. He wrote “Park Seonghwa” just underneath Hongjoong’s handwriting and passed it over. Hongjoong smiled and wrote back “Kim Hongjoong” just underneath Seonghwa’s name and returned the note, going back to his laptop to mark the end of their conversation. Seonghwa glanced at the note and picked it up. Kim Hongjoong. KHJ. Kim. Was that KYS’s surname? It didn’t sound right, but it was a possibility. It always begins there; a possibility, a hope, an idea. He kept the note in the copy of Time and Atom Relations, stacking it with the other books he had planned to borrow. Maybe reading through some quantum physics text could jog his memory of KYS. 

-

“Did you know that the genome of all living cells have memories? Its genetic code had been written based on evolution: what causes our death, what we’re weak to, how to live. So why not decipher that code? Then we’ll be able to construct cells based on their memories.”

“You’re talking about bringing back the dead,” Wooyoung concluded.

“I’m talking about the possibilities.” Yeosang unwrapped his sandwich. It was the day after and they agreed to meet for lunch to talk more about ‘The Project’. Yeosang told Wooyoung to keep it completely secret; he said he was afraid of anyone else stealing his idea, but Wooyoung thinks it’s just because Yeosang doesn’t want to get into trouble for creating a machine that runs on a thin line between ethical and non. 

The remainder of the semester Wooyoung helped Yeosang with his secret project. Yeosang told him that he had the calculations, but needed someone to help him compute them. Wooyoung was slightly disappointed to realize that Yeosang might have only befriended him for the benefit of having a computer geek friend but Wooyoung was too smittened by Yeosang’s sweet smiles (ones that curiously made him feel alive, sparks going up in twirls through his neurons, like a little shot of caffeine, a little happiness) and his scarily dark eyes (ones that lingered on Wooyoung when he worked on the script log on his iPad) for him to be bothered by it. At least he was spending time with his crush, even if it meant being used. 

“In case my- our- formula doesn’t work, then we’ll need an alternative. If calculating atom speeds won’t work, then we can work biologically. We can do that, right? You have my back on this, right?”

Wooyoung smiled at Yeosang. He hinted a bittersweetness in it, but Yeosang didn’t catch on.

“I have your back.”

The day came where Wooyoung’s codes were to be tested. They visited the Engineering building late on a Thursday night, and Wooyoung mentioned seeing a pigeon carcass just outside as we walked in. Yeosang suggested they find an alternate universe where that pigeon would still be alive. Wrapping the cold bird in a tissue paper with a heavy heart, Wooyoung asked himself,  _ What am I doing? _ He let the question echo into a void.

Yeosang placed the bird on the metal platform carefully, then stepped towards the tablet in excitement. “Do you think it was still alive around 5 in the morning?” he asked Wooyoung. 

“Most probably,” Wooyoung replied. “It must’ve just died if no one’s cleaned it up yet.”

Yeosang tapped on the tablet, working the timestamps, dramatically tapping on the ENTER button. As he did, the pointed tip of the bent metal bursted, electrolytes flying through the air, stunning the boys in their place. The constant burst of electricity shot down to the carcass and floated above it for a few seconds before jolting the bird to life, squawking for mercy.

“It worked!” Yeosang exclaimed. “It really worked!”

“But, Yeosang, it’s suffering,” Wooyoung said, worryingly observing the bird as it squawks in place, unable to fly. Yeosang approached it and touched its body. The pigeon responded with a quiet whine.

“It only brought back part of the bird,” Yeosang whispered. “The inside… the heart is beating, but his body is cold.”

“Yeosang, I think we should kill it,” Wooyoung said. “It wants to be dead.”

“This is our first success, we need to observe it more before we kill it,” Yeosang looked into Wooyoung’s eyes, but the darkness didn’t scare him anymore. Wooyoung quietly went towards the bird, grabbing it by the neck and broke it. The squawking ended.

Yeosang grabbed his backpack and stormed out of the lab, leaving the door open behind him. The low light coming from the tablet and a singular fluorescent made Wooyoung feel cold, the silence sounding louder than the hum of the machine. He glanced at the carcass in his hands; they were playing with the hands of death. For the first time in his life, he questioned if his values were skewed; should he have kept the pigeon alive? 

Wooyoung listened to a lot of music that his older brother listened to. He wanted to think that the scenes in movies or TV shows where the older brother introducing great music to his younger brother, passing to the next generation the love of said band or song in an epic moment of realization that they only had each other (and music), was real, but it didn’t happen to him. For him, his brother was hogging the computer, blasting his music over the speakers as Wooyoung lied on the floor behind him, and Wooyoung, not knowing what else to do while waiting for his turn, started to enjoy the music as well, singing along to the lyrics that he had heard eight times now. Wooyoung’s brother would smile to himself, proud that he’s planting his taste in music in the younger, but didn’t talk to him about it, ego too thick to share passions with a thirteen year old. Wooyoung would later ask for the title and singer so he could listen to it himself, copying the ripped mp3 file into his cheap music player, handed down from the older who by then had owned an iPod. 

So when Wooyoung played music out loud as they worked in the lab closet, Wooyoung hoped for that epic movie moment where Yeosang asked what the music was and they would bond over it and profess their mutual love for said band and go to concerts together and fall in love and all the nice things that happen in nice relationships. But Yeosang was quiet as he worked, observing every mechanic and writing notes in his notebook, scribbles in Wooyoung’s eyes; his language was code, Python being his specialty, and Yeosang’s was calculus. There was a distance between them when they were in the lab, a tension that Wooyoung couldn’t describe. He hadn’t asked Yeosang’s purpose behind this project. He felt like there was a bigger reason to all of this; something worth fighting for, Yeosang had said. Something that’s worth getting expelled. Something that determined a pigeon’s life or death. The curiosity itched Wooyoung every day.

Yeosang hadn’t made small talk since the day of the pigeon, and Wooyoung knew better than to strike that chord. He carefully came towards Yeosang with his iPad, a string of codes on screen, barely decipherable to anyone but Wooyoung. A good code has to be easily decoded by any layman, his professor had told him once. Wooyoung made it unreadable for obvious reasons. Palaye Royale played in the background, the words incoherent when their thoughts are in the mechanics of their machine.

“Hey, I think I figured out how to widen the range of atom change,” Wooyoung said softly, not wanting to disturb the other if he wasn’t in the mood to be disturbed. Yeosang looked up from the machine’s tablet solemnly, then looked back down to the scripture on the screen of the iPad.

“You think the problem was the range?” Yeosang’s tone was more curious than angered. Wooyoung loosened the tension in his shoulders. He’s okay. They exchanged a few sentences before Yeosang let Wooyoung key in the code into the tablet. No physical change could be seen by the machine right now, but they could bring in another dead pigeon to test it out. It occured to Wooyoung for a second that the sacrifice meant nothing to him now; as long as Yeosang doesn’t storm out on him again like the other day, he’d experiment with all the pigeons. Before he sounded the suggestion out loud, he took the chance he was looking for.

“Yeosang, why are you doing this?”

There was a moment of isolated guitar riffs and drum beatings in the background before Yeosang responded.

“What do you mean?”

“You said once that if you have something to fight for, it’s worth it. What are you fighting for?”

“Who.”

“Sorry?”

“I’m fighting for someone.”

Wooyoung felt his stomach hollow out. A sense of regret filled his chest; a person who he didn’t know about, a person important to Yeosang that he hadn’t mentioned to Wooyoung before, despite Wooyoung thinking that he was an important person in Yeosang’s life right now, he really didn’t know anything about the other. And maybe it was better that he didn’t.

“Oh.”

“My boyfriend… he died. And I want him back.”

Wooyoung didn’t want to know. He didn’t need this information. He wanted to turn back time to a point where he didn’t know this, to a time when he still had hope that Yeosang liked him back, that he had a chance with the beautiful being before him. He felt a trickle of heart on the back of his ears, a feeling of fear and sadness crashing over him. His throat was dry and tight from the scream that he held back.

“Your boyfriend… died? When?”

Yeosang took a deep breath, looking down on the tablet of his machine before starting. 

“His name’s Park Seonghwa. He died over a year ago in a car accident. I-” He felt his breath shorten at the thought, at the memory of the phone call that he received not from Seonghwa, after days of not hearing from him, but his parents, only to inform Yeosang of his death, of the immediate disappearance of Yeosang’s happiness, of the reason for Yeosang’s days, the only thing that kept him going, the warmth that filled Yeosang’s air. Yeosang shut his lids and rolled his eyes to bring himself back to the present. “I was reading about quantum physics and time relations at the time it happened. I knew it was a thing, just that no one had gotten to it… so I wanted to be the one who did it. And I wanted to do it, so I can have Seonghwa back.”

“Did you…” Wooyoung hesitated. “Did you love him?”

“Yes.”

“So much so that… all of this… is worth it?”

“He’s the only person on earth that I would do this for. He is the only person who’s worth it.”

Wooyoung kept quiet.

“He’s an amazing person. Once you meet him, you would know. The smartest guy in the room. I need him. No, the world needs him.”

It was all starting to sound like an obsession to Wooyoung.

“This doesn’t change anything, right, Wooyoung?” Yeosang’s eyes were trembling. He came closer to grip Wooyoung’s upper arm. “You’re still helping me, right? You’re the only one friend I have right now. You  _ have _ to help me, please.”

He didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was the mysterious void in Yeosang’s now shrinking pupils, trembling in fear with the thought of losing Wooyoung’s company. Maybe it was the softness of Yeosang’s deep voice, quietly seducing Wooyoung into staying. Maybe it was just his own infatuation with Yeosang; his own version of an obsession over the curves of his eyes and nose and cheeks and teeth, his obsession with the way Yeosang smiled only for him, his obsession with the way Yeosang smoked and drank, the way it all looked too elegant in comparison to Wooyoung. Yeosang’s presence was a blessing of its own. 

Maybe Yeosang didn’t have to beg. 

Maybe Wooyoung had already decided that he wanted to be around Yeosang, no matter how ugly everything else actually was.

Or maybe Wooyoung already knew about the rot within, but stayed anyway.

“Shall we test the new code out?”

Yeosang told Wooyoung that they didn’t need a live object to test on just yet, they can do something as simple as a note.

“If we’re able to pull items from a different dimension, then we can test putting things from our dimension into another’s,” Yeosang inferred. “I want to try to leave Seonghwa a note. Just to tell him I’m coming.”

Wooyoung pretended he didn’t hear the last part. 

“Let’s try this,” Yeosang quipped, pulling out a new notebook from his backpack, tearing out its first few pages where he had notes scribbled, leaving paper scraps between the plastic rings. He made a star mark on the corner of the first page with a ballpen and placed the notebook on the platform of the machine and tapped on the tablet. They’re looking for a dimension where Yeosang hadn’t bought this notebook, and it was still in the campus bookstore, waiting for its new owner. Yeosang tapped a button that started the machine, and the metal tip hovering above the notebook buzzed, a line of brightness catching it, causing the pages to glow with electrolytes. Yeosang tapped the tablet again and the bright light disappeared, and he approached the notebook with caution. Wooyoung followed, eyes on the blue cover that didn’t appear to have changed much. Yeosang flipped the cover open and the paper scraps had disappeared, and in place of the star doodled page was a fresh piece of paper, as if just out of the store. Hairs raised on their necks, turning towards each other with wide eyes.

It worked.

That night Wooyoung sat with Yeosang at the downtown bar, a shot of tequila each, clinking their cups in celebration. 

“Here’s to increasing the range of the atom change,” Yeosang smiled. “It’s all thanks to your genius brain.”

Wooyoung smiled back bashfully. “We were lucky.”

“No, I’m the lucky one, to have you.” Yeosang downed his second shot. “Thanks Wooyoung, for staying.”

Wooyoung traced the rim of his glass with his index finger. If Yeosang still loved his dead boyfriend, why would he make Wooyoung feel like this? It was unfair, but Wooyoung was addicted to the feeling.

Yeosang pulled out his notebook. “We need to figure out a way to reverse the effect.”

“Can’t we just relax tonight?”

Yeosang glanced up at Wooyoung. “Relax? We’re barely there. We need to keep going or else we’ll lose momentum.”

Something in Yeosang’s panicked voice made Wooyoung shiver. He sipped on the whiskey he had just ordered. Yeosang went back to his notebook and scribbled some equations that they had used and tried reversing it.

“How do we know which dimension to leave the note at?” Wooyoung asked.

“I guess we don’t,” Yeosang whispered. “A lot of trial and errors. We’ll have to keep trying though.”

Wooyoung took another sip from his glass, watching as Yeosang tapped the back end of his pen on his chin. A hand landed on his shoulder, making him jump. Wooyoung turned to see his roommate beaming at him.

“Nice to see you not working on something for once,” Yunho commented, a glass in hand.

“Hey!” Wooyoung smiled. “Come sit with us. We’re just celebrating a little eureka moment here.”

“Oh?” Yunho replied curiously, taking the seat next to Wooyoung while glancing at the company next to him. Yeosang didn’t return the glance, buried deep in his notebook. “Eureka moment for what?”

“Well it’s a secret project so I’ll say no more,” Wooyoung grinned, the curves of his smile forming lines on his cheeks. “What’re you doing here?”

“Came for drinks with Mingi, saw you and told him I was gonna say hi. He’s in the restroom right now.”

The two friends talked for a few minutes before a tall figure approached, slits for eyes, nose tall and lips plump. Mingi gave Yunho’s back a strong slap, grinning as he greeted Wooyoung. The three talked loudly before Yeosang looked up, distracted. Mingi hadn’t noticed the fourth person until then; the boy’s face could catch anyone’s attention, and it made Mingi’s heartbeat pause.

“Hey Wooyoung,” he said softly, keeping his notebook in his bag. “I guess I’ll just head back to the lab now and work on this.”

“Oh okay,” Wooyoung replied, disappointed that Yeosang didn’t want to stay and join the conversation. “I’ll see you, then.”

“Bye,” Yeosang left a bill on the counter and smiled at the three friends before walking away with his backpack.

“He’s gorgeous,” Mingi said as soon as Yeosang was out of sight.

“Hey hey hey,” Yunho said. “He’s off limits.”

“Yea, even for me,” Wooyoung sighed, taking another sip of his third glass.

“What? No!” Yunho cried. “I’m sorry. He’s not available?”

“Well,” Wooyoung fumbled with his glass again. “Just, haven’t moved on.”

“Oh,” Yunho straightened his back. “That’s a whole different story then. It’s not the end of the world yet. Don’t give up!”

Wooyoung smiled at his optimistic roommate. If only he knew. They’d think he’s crazy, for sure. But it was Yeosang’s secret and Wooyoung didn’t want to risk being hated by Yeosang forever if his plans were ruined. So he kept quiet.

Back in the lab’s closet, Yeosang suddenly felt lonely from the quiet of the air. Without Wooyoung’s music, he felt distracted by the eeriness of the dark building, devoid of life except for the first floor where students buried their heads into computer screens, working on their assignments. He unlocked his phone and played a playlist Seonghwa had made for him. Half of it was Palaye Royale. Every time Wooyoung played his music Yeosang wanted to cry. Despite Seonghwa never leaving Yeosang’s mind, the songs made him feel like he was still alive, just barely out of reach. He put his phone aside, letting the music play as he hung his head over a desk in a corner of the closet.  _ Think, Yeosang, think _ . How would he make sure the dimension he would be approaching would contain a Park Seonghwa that will eventually be his college boyfriend? He thought about stories that Seonghwa had told him about himself, the details that would help him find his lover, things only he knew; him and Seonghwa.

Yeosang looked up, scratching his head, making a mess of his bangs. 

When Seonghwa was 12, he secretly took care of a puppy that lived in the neighborhood park. He would bring food for the puppy every day after lunch. He didn’t tell anyone, except for Yeosang, ten years later. He called the puppy Captain. Unfortunately, the puppy disappeared around the third week of his kind gesture. Seonghwa never really got over Captain.

A dimension where kind, intelligent, selfless Park Seonghwa existed. That was the only world that Yeosang would want to live in. He tore a page from his notebook. He wrote a sentence, then scribbled over it, then tore the page in half. He wrote another sentence, biting his lower lip. What would Seonghwa from a different dimension say to this note? Would he be creeped out? No. The Park Seonghwa that Yeosang knew was curious, experimental. That’s why he was interested in biochemistry; he knew there was more to be discovered of living organisms. Yes, the Park Seonghwa Yeosang knew would respond accordingly. He folded the piece of paper and kept it in his pocket. Now, to figure out the equation they’d have to use. He needed to figure this part out before he could give it to Wooyoung to translate into a code readable by the machine. The student continued where he left off in the bar, burning the midnight oil, using the intoxication in his blood to search for more ideas, ones his sober mind would never be able to think up. It would eventually bring him to 64 pieces of notebook paper strips, all with the same question for Park Seonghwa from all possible different dimensions, leading to the final, sixty fourth Park Seonghwa, who had answered the way Yeosang had wanted him to.

-

Seonghwa sat up in the bed in his room. In his hands was the Time and Atom Relations text. While reading through the quantum physics text, his mind wandered, his thoughts lost between the terms he barely recognized from high school level Physics. His supper with Hongjoong was uneventful, but Hongjoong took much interest in him, that he had probably given too much information from his childhood. It was the only time in Seonghwa’s life that he thought was interesting; much after was just him focusing on school after discovering his interest in the living being. He told Hongjoong about his family; one older brother and older sister, the brother now a chemist in a factory somewhere west, the sister still struggling to find a stable job as a reporter. He told Hongjoong about where he was born and how he lived in his town for eighteen years before leaving for college. He told Hongjoong about the puppy that he fed for three weeks before disappearing forever. He told Hongjoong how his classmates asked him to dissect their frogs for them, since he was the only one who was actually interested in seeing how all the organs worked, and found fascination in difference in every frog; the speed of the heartbeat, the color of the liver, the size of the intestines. Hongjoong found everything about Seonghwa interesting, and it made Seonghwa feel good, to have someone want to know all that about him.

The puppy. Captain. KYS. KYS knew about Captain. KYS were the initials on the note he found in his locker one day in high school. No one knew about Captain but himself (and now Kim Hongjoong). The day he found it, he looked around him in fear, only to see clueless teenagers. Who was KYS? How did he know? Was someone spying on him? Why bring this up now, three years later? 

No. No one knew. 

Seonghwa slowed his breathing. He observed the strip of paper carefully, turning it, only to see a long line of digits on the back, as if a serial number. His brain tried to link the puzzle together, making up stories as he went. KYS was someone in the future whom he would eventually tell this story to. And he was trying to communicate with Seonghwa, somehow, now, at this time. He didn’t know why. He knew for sure that he wouldn’t be able to know immediately. All he could do was help KYS fulfill his wishes. He briefly replied in the form of a scribble with a blue ballpen, and threw the note back in his locker, rushing for his next class. In the next hour, the note disappeared, and somewhere in the past eight years, Seonghwa had forgotten about it entirely.

Now, KYS had come to him again, in the form of a physics book. Is he trying to tell Seonghwa something? How was he doing it, anyway; sending notes to Seonghwa and making them disappear, giving him books in places only Seonghwa knew about? Had KYS been around all this while, or is he really playing with Laws of Physics to communicate with Seonghwa? How did he know all these things about Seonghwa that he hadn’t told anyone else? One thing was for sure, Seonghwa didn’t have to figure out what the initials KYS spelled out. He didn't know it from the get go. 

The next day, Seonghwa found himself in the library again. His usual table was taken, so he ended up in one of the smaller cubicles the library tried to fit along the corridors of the floor, facing towards the outside of the windows. Only fifteen minutes after, Kim Hongjoong joined him in the cubicle next to his. He looked up, and Hongjoong smiled, raising a hand as a greeting. Seonghwa nodded back, going back to his books. The arrival of the other pulled his attention away from his research. He thought about the Werner Heisenberg text in his bag, sitting back in his chair before pulling it out. He flipped to the first page again, where the note was left for him. Was KYS telling him to read the text? Or was he simply giving Seonghwa a sign? He clicked on his ballpen, out, in, out, in, out, in. He then set the book on the table, ready for some institutional vandalism. Below the note KYS had left him, he wrote carefully, in small letters, trying to keep it simple with the limited space leftover. He then dropped his pen on the cubicle surface and stood up, the chair screeching briefly in the quiet of the floor. In the place he had found the book, he slipped two fingers between two neighboring texts to make some space. He glanced back down before putting the book back on the shelf, observing his own writing in black.

_ I’ll be here. _


	2. the dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever woken up from a dream feeling like a part of you belonged somewhere else?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi and welcome back! Are you ready for the angst? :)
> 
> Would like to thank Rosie for proofreading for me, both this chapter and the first! She's such a sweetheart. Check out her works on cassyeopeia, she writes so beautifully ;;-;;
> 
> • Here are the explicit content aforementioned; I've put in bolded X markers for when it starts and ends so if you're uncomfortable reading it please do skip!  
> • Playlist is linked in KYS's note; I suggest to not put it on shuffle uwu  
> • Please do leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed it~

“Thoughts of her gave me all sorts of perceptive advantages. It was as if something of her mind was still alive in me.

Is that cognitive science?

Not really. It’s more like suffering.”

_ \- Andrew’s Brain by E.L. Doctorow _

-

[ _ Do you still miss Captain? - KYS _ ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6ZTyoMpcRlgrhhJXiQYNyp?si=bTcnJ2iNTVWbOomfp9OF5A)

[ _ Yes, always _ ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6ZTyoMpcRlgrhhJXiQYNyp?si=bTcnJ2iNTVWbOomfp9OF5A)

Yeosang gripped the note tightly in between his thumb and the side of his index finger. At first, he was shaken. He didn't want to damage the piece of note in his trembling hands, so he carefully folded it and returned it to his notebook. Yeosang reached his dorm room at around 5 in the morning, wanting to calm himself down. The rip of the grime from his body as he washed his face and changed his clothes released some of the burden on his shoulders. He held the piece of paper close as he laid in bed on his side, watching it carefully. Seonghwa's writing was just how Yeosang remembered it to be. Yeosang sputtered into a sob, his eyebrows knitted, lips pulled to the sides to show clenched teeth. His heart ached, but his tear ducts had dried from the months of crying. Nevertheless, he still felt the pain, the loss. He closed his eyes as single teardrops escaped each of his lids. He took a deep breath, biting his lower lip, and folded the piece of paper. He kept it under his pillow, pulling his covers up to his shoulders before closing his eyes, hoping to fall asleep so he could meet the Seonghwa in his mind through a dream.

Wooyoung observed the line of numbers on the back of the strip of paper. He didn’t want to look at the writings on the other side; Yeosang had gushed over how it was Seonghwa’s writing maybe six times now, and Wooyoung didn’t need a reminder. All he needed was the dimension’s code; once they are able to collaborate the machine to exchange bigger amounts of particles, they can pull the Park Seonghwa from that dimension into this one. Then Yeosang will be happy. And all of this will be over. 

Yeosang was fumbling with the first page of a stout academic text that he rested on his lap by the small table, biting his lower hip as he twirled the pen in his other hand. Wooyoung looked up, unable to focus on the code while Yeosang was in obvious distraught. 

“What are you doing?” 

Yeosang looked up. He blinked twice before putting the book on the table. “I’m thinking… if I should risk losing this text through the dimensions just to send Seonghwa another sign.”

“Oh.” Wooyoung paused. “We can do that later, when we figure out more about what we’re capable of doing with this machine. Maybe it’s time for the pigeon test again?”

They collected several items to test other than the bird carcass; a piece of bark, a discarded empty Starbucks cup, a new pack of Lunchables, an insect (that they had to keep in a container with a piece of leaf to keep it happy), a live worm. The worm and insect died of shock almost immediately, the piece of leaf blackened at the touch of the electrolytes. The pack of Lunchables went through several dimensions; from one that was on its way to complete rot to a half eaten one.

“When we pull things from different dimensions, we’re replacing them with the current thing we have on the machine, right?”

Yeosang shuddered. Wooyoung gave a playful grin.

“Imagine the look on the person’s face who was eating this Lunchable pack when a rotten one took its place.”

They giggled and gagged, then went back to work. The Starbucks cup came back full; an order of mocha with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle. Wooyoung dared Yeosang to take a sip. They both ended up sharing it; Starbucks from a different dimension still tasted good. They managed to find a dimension where the bark was processed into a pencil, its graphite lead blunt from use. Yeosang picked it up, an idea coming to mind. He pulled a wooden pencil from his stationary bag, approaching Wooyoung so he could see the ‘PSH’ etched in roughly by a sharp edge near the eraser end of the pencil. 

“You want to risk losing this?” Wooyoung said under his breath.

“If the Park Seonghwa I know exists in that 64th dimension, then I won’t be losing anything.”

They placed the pencil on the platform and started the machine. It was routine, but somehow the air surrounding them was heavier. When Yeosang stopped the current from flowing, he didn’t move from his place. Wooyoung approached the machine instead, picking up the pencil from the metal platform.

“Is it… shorter?”

Wooyoung handed over the wooden pencil to Yeosang. He couldn’t read the other’s expression; it was between a certain sadness with an eerie calmness, the void in his eyes even darker than Wooyoung had seen before. Yeosang turned the pencil and found the same etching at the same place. PSH.

“In this dimension,” Yeosang started, finding it difficult to breathe normally. “He probably used it more, because he didn’t give it to me.”

Wooyoung felt tears well in his own eye sockets, his heartstrings being tugged by Yeosang’s apparent despair. He stopped himself from letting them trail down his cheeks because Yeosang didn’t cry; instead he looked up at Wooyoung and smiled softly.

“Let’s get Seonghwa back.”

Yeosang kept the pencil back in his case and Wooyoung carried the bird carcass to the machine. He placed it carefully on the platform, pulling away the cloth that had been covering it. Wooyoung sighed nervously as he watched Yeosang tap on the tablet. 

“I want to see what this bird would be doing in Seonghwa’s dimension.”

Seonghwa’s dimension. Funny, Wooyoung thought. Yeosang had already given it Seonghwa’s name, when it’s just another dimension where Seonghwa existed, and there were an infinite amount of dimensions where Seonghwa existed, but this one was Seonghwa’s. Was there one for Wooyoung?

The machine sputtered as the electrolytes came into contact with the carcass, jolting the bird’s body. When Yeosang stopped the machine, the electrolytes released hold of it and absorbed back into the metal tip, revealing dried bones in place of the dead pigeon.

“Did we kill it?” Wooyoung asked, knowing the actual answer.

“No,” Yeosang mumbled. “In Seonghwa’s dimension, this bird had been dead for a much longer time.” Yeosang went back to the tablet and keyed in another dimension’s number. The machine started again and grumbled. A minute later a squawk was heard from the bird. Feathers formed, and wings flapped. Yeosang stopped the machine and as soon as the electrolytes released from the bird’s body, it flew up towards the ceiling and hit it with a thud. The pigeon floated wearily in shock, then flew across the room, panicked at the unfamiliar surroundings. Cleaning tools fell as the bird met it with a smack, kicking and flapping everything in its way, making a clutter on the floor. Wooyoung hurried to the closet door and swung it open, then rushed to unlatch the lab window’s handle, pushing it open wide. The pigeon flew out of the closet and hovered around the ceiling of the lab, squawking as its face met with the ceiling fan. Yeosang grabbed a broom and shooed the bird towards the window, guiding it out. As soon as it felt the fresh air, its wings flapped stronger, gliding through the sky. Wooyoung raised an eyebrow at Yeosang, and Yeosang smirked. 

“We managed to pull life through dimensions.”

-

Seonghwa can’t remember the last time he had sex. Probably freshman year, when he thought he should at least try to live what others called the college experience. Some girl he met at a bar party. It was forgettable, and Seonghwa thought there was more to ‘the college experience’ than what he lived through the night before. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to have it, but it was that he didn’t get to it. Now, with Kim Hongjoong lying naked next to him in his bed, he didn’t know what to make of the situation. Were they dating? Is that what it is? Seonghwa had to worry about his job, his degree, the research; should he be committing himself to a relationship right now? Of course he liked Hongjoong. He liked the attention, and the boy was endearing; smart and sweet, thoughtful, but not a smarty pants. Kind, but not gracious. He pulled Seonghwa back to reality when he was lost in his own thoughts, but gave enough space for Seonghwa to think when he needed to. 

Seonghwa hadn’t told Hongjoong about KYS. He might not understand why Seonghwa humored the idea that someone from the future might be contacting him. Or maybe he would find it odd and decide to distance himself from Seonghwa. He didn’t know why it bothered him now; Seonghwa didn’t think much of it before. If others couldn’t accept him and distanced themselves from him, he would still be able to live. Maybe he was finally understanding the fear of loss. 

“You awake?” Hongjoong asked in a raspy voice as he turned his face towards Seonghwa, the rest of his body flat on the bed. The taller just sat up, resting his crown on the bed’s headboard as he wandered through his train of thoughts. 

“Yea,” Seonghwa replied under his breath. Hongjoong looked up at him dreamily from where he laid, digging his cheeks into the soft pillow below him, a smile slowly forming as he watched the handsome man. Seonghwa smiled back. Hongjoong’s smile melted Seonghwa’s tough facade. 

“So…” Hongjoong started, trying to sound casual. “What are we doing after this?”

Seonghwa thought about the night before. He was tired from being at the library all day, but Hongjoong had dragged Seonghwa to supper with him. They talked like they usually did, until a yawn came from Seonghwa and Hongjoong asked if he was okay to drive back. Seonghwa didn’t know if he imagined the subtle hint in Hongjoong’s voice, or the curve of his smile, or even the touch of his fingers on Seonghwa's knuckles. When they reached the apartment building, the haze in Seonghwa’s mind cleared, and he invited Hongjoong into his room, and everything else went by incredibly slow and too fast, both at the same time. 

If Hongjoong wasn’t here, in the flesh, he might have pushed it off as a dream.

Seonghwa came down and reached to hug the other, sniffing the cold skin of his shoulder. He smelled like floral scented soap, mixed with a bit of sleep sweat.

“Do you like pancakes?”

Hongjoong watched from the other side of the island counter, the living room side, as Seonghwa mixed the pancake batter in the kitchen. They discussed the best pancake toppings; Hongjoong settled with ice cream and strawberry syrup, while Seonghwa preferred the classic butter and maple syrup. Seonghwa heated the pan and started pouring batter from a plastic jug, lips pursed while defending bittersweet maple syrup. He glanced down with a smile when a cold foreign touch wrapped the hand that held the handle of the pan. Seonghwa jumped at the feeling, sending the pan across the stove, a curse escaping his lips. The other hand that held the batter pulled back quickly, causing some of the light colored mixture to splatter over the corner of the stove and part of the counter adjacent to it. Seonghwa’s eyes widened, catching his breath before turning the stove off. 

“Are you okay?” Hongjoong asked, unsure of what he should do, just as surprised as Seonghwa. The taller turned towards Hongjoong with wide eyes. What had just happened?

“I thought… I felt something…” Seonghwa realized how ridiculous it sounded as he said it, so he bit his lips close. “Maybe I’m just out of it. Sorry, I’ll clean this up real quick.”

“Hey, if you’re tired I can make them for you. Although I’m no expert, I can make them edible.” Hongjoong stood up and went into the kitchen, grabbing paper towels to wipe the counter. He looked up at Seonghwa with a smile. “You should go rest.”

Seonghwa pulled Hongjoong by the waist and leaned down to kiss him. “Thank you. Sorry again.”

“Boohoo, kiss and make up. How adolescent.”

“Maple syrup is the only way to go. Strawberry syrup is just blasphemy.”

“Okay, okay, maple syrup wins. You didn’t have to make a whole scene to prove your point.”

“Had to win somehow.”

Seonghwa went back to his room, getting ready for a shower. As soon as Hongjoong was out of sight, he looked down at his right hand; the hand that had felt the touch. It felt so real; the rough fingertips, the bones on its joints, the softness of the palm. He didn’t see it, only felt it, and that was what shocked him the most. It wasn’t a ghost. No, it was something so much scarier than that. A life that had interrupted his space, the atoms and particles surrounding him, broke through it and found its way to Seonghwa’s skin. It made him shiver. How was that possible? Did KYS manage to figure it out? Was that KYS’s hand that touched him? A part of Seonghwa wanted to experience it again out of curiosity. The other was scared that these experiences might interrupt his time with Hongjoong. Or was Hongjoong interrupting  _ his _ time? 

Seonghwa shook his head. His newfound company comforted him. Seonghwa didn't want to push Hongjoong away; it wasn't right. He took a cold shower and washed his thoughts away. In time, he'll be able to tell if Hongjoong was worth his time and effort, but for now, Seonghwa wanted to enjoy the warmth the boy offered him. It was hard to say goodbye that evening, but Seonghwa gave Hongjoong a farewell peck, and decided that he liked the way things were between the two. He went back to his apartment as he usually did; alone, and suddenly he remembered how it was like before. It was just one night but the presence of a person in Seonghwa’s life made so much difference. In his room, he traced his academic texts with his fingers, but decided he was too tired to read. He fell asleep as he thought of Hongjoong; the warmth of his hands, the softness of his kisses, the sweetness of his smile, and the way it shone through his eyes.

Seonghwa didn’t recognize the face he was looking at. In this dream, he was floating in the sky, and even while wearing only a t-shirt and pajama pants, the cold wind didn’t bother him. Instead it was refreshing to feel the breeze through his hair, drying his oiled face. He didn’t hear anything but the summer crickets (wasn’t it fall when he was awake?) and could only see the stars that shimmered from afar. There was no moon; only an abundance of thin clouds. He tried to move; leaned to the right, swayed to the left, forward, and nothing had tied him, but no matter where he went, he was still floating in an empty sky. There was nowhere to go. Then the face appeared. In Seonghwa’s mind, his face was close to him at first, but then he realized that the person was at a distance. He didn’t know if he should approach the figure, but the figure started floating towards him, arms flailing as he tried to go faster, dressed in a sweater and black pants. Seonghwa floated forward, to ease the other’s eagerness. The closer they got, the more of the person’s face Seonghwa could make out. It was a boy, about his age, maybe younger from the size, but from the lines that creased in his expression, he looked mature. His arched eyebrows framed a pretty set of eyes, and cheeks that were round as he smiled excitedly. Did he know Seonghwa?

As they got closer, the figure threw himself towards the taller, wrapping Seonghwa into an embrace, burying his face in Seonghwa’s chest. Seonghwa didn’t resist, resting his palms on the stranger’s shoulder blades. He felt cold wet patches forming on his chest. 

“ _ Seonghwa, _ ” the boy cried.

“ _ Do I know you? _ ”

The boy’s eyes widened, and after a moment he pulled back, letting go of his hold on Seonghwa. 

“ _ It’s me… Yeosang. You don’t know me? _ ”

“ _ I’m sorry. _ ”

“ _ It’s okay, _ ” Yeosang’s voice broke, breath hitching as tears continued to stream down his cheeks. “ _ Is it okay if I hug you? I missed you so much. _ ”

“ _ Okay… Yeosang. _ ”

The boy bit his lower lip, throwing himself on Seonghwa’s chest again, sobbing as he murmured softly. “ _ I missed you. I missed you so much I felt like I could die. I would rather die in your place, you know? You deserve to live more than I do. Every day I wish you were still with me, still by my side, still sitting in the library quietly buried in your books, still sucking up to your professors to let you do their papers, still sneaking into lab sessions. I know I’m not good enough for you, but you still chose me and now I’ll make it right. I’ll bring you back to the world where we belong together. I’ll bring you back. _ ”

Yeosang. YS. It clicked in Seonghwa’s brain.

“ _ KYS? _ ” he whispered.

The boy’s star-glinted eyes looked up, moisture glassing over his pupils, his lips separated just slightly. Gosh, he was beautiful, Seonghwa thought. From the arch of his eyebrows to his perfectly sculpted eyes, apple cheeks and soft, round mouth. 

“ _ Do you- Did you get my notes? _ ”

“ _ About… Captain… and the physics text? _ ”

“ _ Yes! Yes, the note about Captain, and the book! Yes, y-you replied! You… It’s- it’s really you… _ ”

Seonghwa had so many questions, and his mind raced with thoughts, wondering what he should ask first. How did KYS get here? How did he get from writing notes to bringing himself into Seonghwa’s air, and now meeting him in his dream? Who is he? Why did he talk to Seonghwa like he was dead? The stars surrounding them started to dim, their shine blinking into nothing, and the dark blue sky started to fall into a void of darkness.

“ _ I have so many things to ask you, _ ” Seonghwa started, pulling back.

“ _ I’m afraid our time is ending, _ ” Yeosang replied, the tears streaming down once again. “ _ I’ll come back, I promise. I missed you. _ ”

“ _ Next time, _ ” Seonghwa said, not sure if Yeosang heard him, as the darkness started to swallow him as well. “ _ You have to tell me everything. _ ”

“ _ Okay. I will, _ ” Yeosang finally smiled, sweet round teeth revealing themselves. Seonghwa smiled back sadly, and as Yeosang disappeared into thin air, Seonghwa woke up, his cheeks stained with dried salt.

-

It had been months since their first success in necromancy of sorts, and the cold of winter was slowly bidding its farewell. After the pigeon, success in trying to pull life into their dimension had been low. It was painful watching squirrels and birds come in with only a moving leg or mewling but unable to do anything else. Wooyoung didn’t think it would push Yeosang to do something as reckless as put the book he held so dearly through the machine. Below Yeosang’s familiar script was a short, hurried scribble.

_ I’ll be here. _

“Wooyoung, maybe we need to try it ourselves. This machine. I can’t keep doing this. I need to know we can get him through. Maybe small animals are just too fragile. Maybe we need something stronger. Someone."

“I understand your frustration, I do, but I really don’t think that’s a good idea right now. We’re still too early in the testing stage...”

Yeosang ignored Wooyoung and turned away, wiping away the tear stains on his face. He walked towards the machine and keyed a dimension into the tablet; he had memorized it now, the number to Seonghwa’s dimension. Wooyoung came closer, pulling Yeosang’s hand away from the tablet. He looked the other in his dark, void eyes, now glassed with angry tears, trying to convey his concern through his own glance. Yeosang bit his lower lip, the other hand tapping on the tablet for the machine to start. He twisted his hand away from Wooyoung’s grasp and jumped on the machine’s platform. Wooyoung pulled Yeosang’s sweater to hold him back, stretching the spandex cotton mix, stumbling as he wrapped his arms around Yeosang’s waist, but Yeosang was strong, reaching his hand out to touch the electrolytes that streamed out of the pointed tip. The current jolted Yeosang away, jerking back into the machine, heating up to a sizzle. Yeosang jumped back in pain, gritting his teeth as he fell on Wooyoung. 

“Are you okay?” Wooyoung asked, pulling out the hand that had touched the current. Yeosang’s milk skin had turned a bright red on his fingertips and palms, the back slightly darkened. Wooyoung turned to look at Yeosang. “Does it hurt?”

Yeosang pushed Wooyoung away, looking down at his hand. It felt a burning sensation, but it wasn’t what Yeosang was worried about. He had felt Seonghwa’s skin; bones of the hand’s knuckles, fingers curved, wrapped around something. He could recognize that hand in a heartbeat; smooth on the outside and soft on the inside. He had felt it a million times. Tears swelled in his sockets again; he missed Seonghwa so much. The days they had spent together ran through his brain as he gritted his teeth, eyebrows furrowed as he shut his eyes in anguish. The boy curled into himself on the floor of the closet as he let out a loud cry. 

Wooyoung approached the other with concern, landing a hand on his back as he tried to look at the injury again. “If you’re hurt we should go see a doctor-”

“I don’t  _ care _ about getting hurt!” Yeosang yelled. “ _ Seonghwa’s dead! _ Who cares if I get hurt! Hell, I can  _ die _ and it wouldn’t matter if Seonghwa isn’t here!”

“Yeosang-”

“ _ Leave me alone! _ ”

Wooyoung didn’t budge. He looked at Yeosang with a mixture of pity and sadness. He didn't know which was more tragic; how much Yeosang loved his dead boyfriend, or how much Wooyoung loved him. Yeosang bit his lips again, tearing through the flesh and drawing blood, then threw his head on Wooyoung's chest as he breathed a loud sob. He gripped onto Wooyoung's shirt, voice falling into a whimper.

"I felt him. I felt Seonghwa. He was right there. I almost had him. I miss him, Wooyoung. I miss him so much."

Wooyoung wrapped his arms around the other's back, pulling him closer. He felt the tickle of Yeosang's heavy breathing on his neck as he rested his head on Wooyoung's shoulder. Wooyoung patted his head, stroking his hair gently. He let the sobs die out, the cries turning into little hiccups. Yeosang wiped the moistures with his sleeve as he let out one last hot breath on Wooyoung's neck. Wooyoung blushed, controlling himself from taking advantage of the other's vulnerability. Yeosang's eyelids fluttered as he looked up at Wooyoung's jaw, then looked back down at his hand. The burning sensation had long been gone, just a slight aching left to remind him of the pain. He reached out to hold Wooyoung's hand, intertwining their fingers, then closed his eyes. Wooyoung turned and kissed Yeosang's crown, making the other wonder what was going on in Wooyoung's mind right now. 

"Why don't you hate me?" Yeosang asked in a whisper. "I'm out of my mind and you know it."

"You told me to stay."

"It's been months. We’ve made no progress."

"I promised I'd stay."

Yeosang pulled back his head, locking eyes with Wooyoung. He turned his body and swung one leg over to sit on Wooyoung's lap, not releasing his sight on the other. He came closer to Wooyoung's ear, where he heard how intense Wooyoung's breathing had gotten.

"I should thank you for your help."

"You don't have to-"

"I insist."

Yeosang pulled back, his lips lingering dangerously close to Wooyoung's as their breaths met, watching each other in a quiet wonder, blood running through the veins of their ears and neck. Wooyoung had always imagined kissing Yeosang first, but those fantasies vaporized as Yeosang leaned in to touch Wooyoung's soft, plump lips, draping his arms over Wooyoung's shoulders. It made Wooyoung crazy, how Yeosang could play with his feelings like this, how he can tease him and he wouldn't mind, he was wrapped around Yeosang's fingers, his world was now Yeosang's and he didn't care at all. He leaned in closer, trembling before claiming another kiss from Yeosang. Their lips latched onto each other like magnets, unreleasing, tongues twisting and turning, breathing moans like air. 

**X**

Yeosang reached down to palm Wooyoung over his pants, their noses bumping as they tasted each other's spit. Wooyoung wrapped his arms around Yeosang's waist, one hand feeling up his torso, the lean muscles of his back, his thumb brushing dangerously close to Yeosang's nipple. Yeosang pulled back from the kiss to undress Wooyoung’s jeans. He slipped one hand down Wooyoung's boxers and pulled out the length, gently stroking it as the other hand went under Wooyoung's shirt to touch his chest, tracing his nipples lightly with the tip of his thumb. His eyes fluttered up to watch Wooyoung sigh in pleasure, teeth gritting. He fumbled with Yeosang's pants button, pulling it down to his knees and letting Yeosang's dick spring free. He ran his hand down to Yeosang's back, feeling the smooth skin, tracing it down all the way to the underside of his thigh. Yeosang touched Wooyoung's jaw with a finger, pulling Wooyoung's attention to his face, and their lips found each other wordlessly again. He grabbed Wooyoung's adventurous hand and put it between his legs.

"Can you loosen me up?

Wooyoung found his way to Yeosang's hole, fingers carefully tracing the rim and feeling the moisture. 

"I'll do it slowly, okay?"

Yeosang nodded. Wooyoung slipped in his middle finger, just a digit at first, then pushing in the rest slowly. Yeosang made a soft whine that satisfied Wooyoung, encouraging him to thrust another finger in, wet noises sounding as he moved them in and out. Yeosang's grip on Wooyoung's dick faltered, legs weakening from the shiver that went up his spine. He rested his mouth on Wooyoung's shoulder, breathing heavily but slowly as he let himself feel the movement inside of him. Soon, as he accustomed himself to the feeling, he collected spit in his mouth and dripped the liquid on Wooyoung's length. He stroked it a bit more, his ears flaming as he looked up to give Wooyoung a hasty kiss, whispering "Fuck me."

The words raised hairs all over Wooyoung's heated body, a spark sizzling in his brain, the two fingers inside Yeosang's hole separating and loosening the tract. Hairs on Yeosang's neck raised as Wooyoung pulled out his fingers, raising himself above Wooyoung's precum covered tip. He pushed himself down slowly, moaning as his walls clenched around Wooyoung’s length. He threw his head back in pleasure, fingers curling on Wooyoung’s back, nails digging into his skin as he made another sound. Wooyoung placed a thumb over Yeosang's opened mouth, and Yeosang caught it between his lips, suckling onto it.

"Move for me, baby," Wooyoung whispered. Yeosang started thrusting himself on Wooyoung, his tongue restless on the salty thumb. Wooyoung helped with the motion, sputtering breaths laced with moans. Yeosang felt his thighs waver, placing the thumb's joint between his teeth gently as his body uncontrollably chased the high. Wooyoung's back ached, angling towards the floor, but his head was in shambles, the tightness around him causing a dysfunction in every other part of his body. 

"You feel so good," Wooyoung praised, voice cracking. "So so good."

They groaned and whined, feeling the stickiness of their sweats as they touched each other everywhere, anywhere. Wooyoung pulled closer to kiss Yeosang’s neck, removing his thumb to catch Yeosang's erection, giving it smooth strokes, and the length sputtered as a warning. Wooyoung bit Yeosang's pale skin, and white liquid splattered on the underside of Wooyoung's jaw, then down to his chest, staining the collar of his shirt. Wooyoung shivered at the touch, still relentless as he tugged on the collar of Yeosang's sweater, his tongue tracing down to Yeosang's clavicle, marking it with his teeth. Yeosang wrapped an arm around Wooyoung’s head, holding it in place as he continued thrusting, taking a moment to wipe away the sweat dripping down the side of his neck. He felt his sensitive length feel overstimulated by Wooyoung’s kisses, threatening to erect again, but warm cum filled up his insides, slowing their movements. Wooyoung carefully pulled himself away from Yeosang, the white liquid dripping on the linoleum floor, barely missing Wooyoung's jeans. Hairs raised on the back of Yeosang’s neck as he felt the semen escape him, hovering slightly before sitting on Wooyoung's lap again. He reached out to give Wooyoung one more kiss, lazily swirling his tongue in the other’s mouth as he cupped Wooyoung’s face. Wooyoung kissed back, nursing Yeosang’s lower lip with nibbles, before letting go and resting his forehead on Yeosang’s shoulder. His hands went down to dress Yeosang, and Yeosang pulled Wooyoung’s boxer’s up as well, slowly buttoning up his jeans before leaving his arms wrapped around Wooyoung's waist. Wooyoung landed soft kisses on Yeosang’s neck, tickling him just slightly. 

**X**

“I love you, Yeosang.” Wooyoung whispered softly. 

It surprised Yeosang slightly. He hadn't thought much about how Wooyoung felt about him; he was too busy thinking of his own emotions, of his own need for touch, of his own selfish wants. He didn't know how to respond.

"Can you love me back?"

Yeosang let his head rest on the side of Wooyoung's. “I can’t.”

“Why not?" Wooyoung choked back tears.

“Wooyoung, I love Park Seonghwa.”

Wooyoung kept quiet. Hurt. It hurt like little needles poking through his chest. That’s okay. That’s fine. He knew this already, but he had to make sure. And now he knew for sure. This was all a game for Yeosang and that’s fine by him.

“We can't be anything more than friends, because when Seonghwa comes back it'll be too complicated. You get what I mean, right?”

Wooyoung didn’t answer. Yeosang rubbed Wooyoung's back with his palm; a motion to comfort the other, but it only annoyed him. 

“Sorry, Wooyoung. Maybe I shouldn't have done this. I just wanted to tell you I'm glad you're here with me. But we need to bring Seonghwa back.” 

Yeosang gave Wooyoung's cheek a peck before leaving him on the floor. He threw his backpack over his shoulder and unlocked the closet door, closing it behind him with a tired click. Wooyoung stared at the door for what felt like hours, his chest void, his tear ducts dry, his brain left in a mush, daydreaming of Yeosang’s moans and the sizzling spark.

_ “Fuck me.” _

Wooyoung held onto those words. It was the only thing that kept him moving forward; a reason to keep him going, the rush of blood being the only thing that ensured him that Yeosang wanted him too, that  _ he _ too was desirable, even if just as a manwhore. Wooyoung let the pride build in his chest.  _ He fucked _ Yeosang. Proof that he meant something. Wooyoung stood up and found a cloth to wipe the cum on the floor, then washed it away. He squeezed the cloth dry, wringing it tight until his knuckles turned white, gripping until only droplets fell from it.

Anything. Anything. Anything that he could clench onto, like a silk cloth under his fingers, he will grip it tight. A reason to keep going.

Yeosang crawled into his bed back in his dorm and pulled out the piece of paper that he had kept under his bed, comparing it to the writing on the book. The more recent one’s letter joint at the ends, the circles smaller, compared to the one on the paper, where the letters were in their own spaces, circles wider. The slant and n’s curved at the same places. Yeosang wondered how much time had passed for Seonghwa between these two signs. Maybe more than it had for Yeosang. He thought about his dead lover; the touches that they shared, just like the way he did with Wooyoung, the days they spent. He was happy. He thought about Seonghwa’s neck kisses and the way he would tease Yeosang when he tried to make Seonghwa’s trademark pancakes. It was all gone now. Slow tears fell again; Yeosang was tired of crying, but he couldn’t help but feel his heart break into a million pieces again and again, so he sighed heavily, falling asleep in the broad daylight. 

-

Seonghwa’s eyes widened as he looked around, realizing the stars were glimmering close to him again, the moon absent, the dark blue sky comforting as thin clouds of white stained its vastness. He searched for Yeosang, wondering if he should float through or if Yeosang will find him. Soon he felt a hand reach for his.

“ _ I knew it. It was you. _ ”

Seonghwa turned to see the stranger behind him. Yeosang looked up, eyebrows arched down. 

“ _ Did you feel it? When I touched your hand? _ ”

“ _ Yes _ .”

Seonghwa wasn’t saying what he wanted to say. He wanted to ask how Yeosang did it. He wanted to ask who Yeosang was and what he was doing to Seonghwa. He wanted to ask what Yeosang was planning to do, why was he doing this. Yet none of those questions fell through his lips; Yeosang answered those questions anyway.

“ _ I think I did something while testing the machine _ ,” he spoke softly. Unlike the first time, Yeosang wasn’t hasty, and he wore what looked like sleepwear; a loose tee and knee length sweats. He took Seonghwa’s hand and floated along the sky, motioning for Seonghwa to follow him. They passed the stars as they spoke, no destination in mind. “ _ I passed my hand through the dimension. Only my hand. It hurt a bit but it was worth it. Because now, I can talk to you. Albeit only through my dreams. It makes me wonder if you’re real. But I’ll talk to you as if you are anyway. The Seonghwa that usually appeared in my dreams knowing who I am, embracing me like he usually did. You were my first dream where he didn’t. And now you’re back. So maybe you  _ are _ real. _ ”

“ _ I’d like to think I am, _ ” Seonghwa whispered back. Yeosang looked back to give Seonghwa a thin smile before faltering back into his agonized expression. Seonghwa wondered why Yeosang was so sad if he had hoped that he was talking to a real Seonghwa.

“ _ There are multiple realities in our world. Different dimensions. Every decision leads to a different reality. A reality where Adam didn’t take the apple from the tree. A reality where humans weren’t nomads, hence didn’t survive on earth. A reality where your parents hadn’t met, and you do not exist. In my reality, we met, and you died. In your reality, we didn’t meet, and you didn’t die. _ ”

“ _ Did us meeting lead to my death? _ ”

Yeosang paused. “ _ I don’t know. I sure hope not.” _

“ _ I am building a machine. One where you can cross over dimensions and come to my reality, and live with me. Would you like that? _ ”

Seonghwa didn’t answer. He didn’t know what he wanted.

“ _ From what I know, there’s not much difference between our realities. My Seonghwa and you… you even write the same. And assuming that you found my book in the library, then you are doing the exact same thing he did when he was alive. A Biochemistry major, I assume? What you’re doing, I mean. _ ”

“ _ Yes _ .”

“ _ Not much difference at all. You even look exactly alike. Let me guess. _ ” Yeosang stopped to turn to Seonghwa. “ _ Your birthmark is on the underside of your right thigh. _ ”

Seonghwa felt blood rush to his cheeks. How did Yeosang know all of this?

“ _ Were we… lovers, in your reality? _ ”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Yeosang smiled, bittersweet hinted at the pull of his lips. “ _ I loved you. No, I love you, present tense. Will that convince you to come with me? _ ”

“ _ I don’t know you. _ ”

“ _ We can learn more about each other. What would you like to know? _ ”

Seonghwa pondered on it. “ _ Maple syrup or strawberry syrup on pancakes? _ ”

Yeosang smiled. “ _ I like strawberry syrup, but you’d think that’s blasphemy. _ ”

Unlike before, Seonghwa woke without a warning. He felt the buzz of his phone through the mattress, reaching around to find it under his covers. He blinked, furrowing his brows at the strip of light intruding his room through the window curtain, eyes strained by it. The phone screen displayed Kim Hongjoong’s name (with two heart emojis that followed; Hongjoong insisted to add that after their second night together) and Seonghwa answered without hesitation.

“Hongjoong?”

“Morning sleepy head! It’s almost noon! You planning to wake up soon?”

“Maybe not.”

“Did you dream of me?” Seonghwa could hear Hongjoong’s smile through the phone. He felt an ache in his chest.

“You figured me out.”

“Cute,” Hongjoong giggled. “Anyway I called to ask, is it okay if we don’t go out for dinner tonight? I thought I’d come over and bring pizza, we can just watch Netflix or something.”

“Sure,” Seonghwa replied, closing his eyes as he felt his brain dry out. He wanted to go back to sleep so badly. 

“Awesome. I’ll see you around six? Or five? Four? Four thirty.”

“Anytime, Joongie. You’re always welcomed.” It wasn’t a lie. Seonghwa heard Hongjoong smile again. 

“Okay. Love you.”

Hongjoong didn’t give Seonghwa the chance to say it back, hanging up right after. He never did. Seonghwa wondered if Hongjoong was scared Seonghwa would hesitate, which he would. Maybe Hongjoong understood him too well; that he wasn’t ready to say it yet, and didn’t want to pressure him into saying it out loud. He thought about Yeosang and tried to close his eyes, hoping he would see Yeosang again. But it took him about twenty minutes to finally fall into a light slumber, and he didn’t dream of anything; just darkness and the heavy burden of keeping a secret to himself.

Three in the morning. That was the time Seonghwa woke up, his partner next to him still asleep. Seonghwa had dreamt of Yeosang, but it wasn’t the Yeosang that had talked to him. It was his own version of Yeosang, and he dreamt of kissing the red birthmark on his temple, and he dreamt of kissing his neck, and of feeling the vibrations that came with Yeosang’s whine, and he dreamt of undressing the stranger, and he felt things he didn’t know he could feel. He kissed his partner’s crown, and Hongjoong woke up, looking up at the taller whose eyes were filled with lust, coming down to kiss him aggressively. He responded back, thinking it would be a continuation of what they did last night. He was hugely mistaken.

Seonghwa wondered if this was how it felt like to love the stranger, to make him feel good, and every groan he heard, he heard it with Yeosang’s sweet and sultry voice, and he felt his chest ache as he pushed himself into his partner, knowing that this wasn’t Yeosang, but wanting it to be, pretending that it was. He imagined the stranger’s soft lips kissing his neck, and he imagined him thrusting on Seonghwa the way his partner was now, erupting his nerves with pleasure at every touch and purring sweet nothings into his ears. He didn’t know how much of him was disconnected from reality until Hongjoong pulled away.

“What did you say?”

Seonghwa looked into Hongjoong’s eyes in guilty confusion. He felt knots twist in his stomach. He was in the wrong, and he knew it.

“Who’s Yeosang?”

Seonghwa’s mind was disarrayed, mouth gaping as he tried to find the right words to explain himself. “No one.”

“Can’t be no one if you’re thinking of him while we’re having sex.”

Seonghwa didn’t know how to respond.

“Are you seeing someone else?”

“No.”

“Do you know how much I want to slap you right now?”

“Hongjoong please, it’s- he’s no one, really.”

Hongjoong felt hot tears run down his cheeks. “Stop lying!” he cried. Seonghwa placed a hand on his forehead, biting his lips in frustration.

“If I tell you the truth, you won’t believe me. Or you’ll leave me, and I don’t want that.”

Hongjoong took a deep breath to stop the tears from pouring, his throat dry and swollen from holding them back. He sat back on the bed’s headboard, putting on his boxers, then crossing his arms around his stomach. “Entertain me.”

Seonghwa looked at him exasperatedly. He turned so he would face Hongjoong, pulling the covers over his legs and the softening length. It was embarrassing now, to be both vulnerable physically and mentally, but he told Hongjoong everything; from the paper strip to the book, to the hand and the dreams. Hongjoong listened wordlessly, then when Seonghwa was done, he turned on his side and pulled the covers up to his shoulders. When Seonghwa came to embrace him, he hissed “Don’t touch me.” 

Seonghwa felt the world crash over him, and he turned towards the other side of the bed, knowing that Hongjoong heard him sobbing to himself. Hongjoong didn’t say a single word of comfort that he wanted to hear.

It was the loneliest time Seonghwa had felt his entire life.

Morning came and Seonghwa woke from his light sleep as he heard Hongjoong walking around the room. He raised himself from the bed and turned towards the other, but Hongjoong gave him a sorrowed expression before looking away.

“I think I need some time away. I hope you understand.”

“Please don’t hate me.”

Hongjoong felt hot tears forming again. Why would he cry for this ridiculous man? He didn’t even know if Yeosang was real or made up, and as much as Hongjoong pitied Seonghwa - the sadness in his eyes looked genuine enough - Hongjoong felt hurt and pain more than anything else.

“Sorry, Seonghwa. When this Yeosang thing is over, call me. I’d be happy to see you then.”


	3. the infinite realities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old habits die hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're on the last chapter!! I hope everyone's ready.
> 
> Would like to thank Rosie (ao3: cassyeopeia | twt: @cassyeopeia ) and Arina (twt: @hongpockets ) for helping me proofread this very long chapter.
> 
> • I've put in bolded X markers for when explicit content starts and ends so if you're uncomfortable reading it please do skip!  
> • Playlist is linked in the first word of the story; I suggest to not put it on shuffle ^_^
> 
> Enjoy!

“ But beneath all these practical problems lies a huge quantum mystery. At a basic level, quantum physics predicts very strange things about how matter works that are  **completely at odds** with how things seem to work in the real world. Quantum particles can behave like particles, located in a single place; or they can act like waves,  distributed all over space or in several places at once . How they appear seems to depend on how we choose to measure them, and before we measure they seem to have no definite properties at all –  leading us to a fundamental conundrum about  **the nature of basic reality** .” -  [ _ Richard Webb _ ](https://www.newscientist.com/term/quantum-physics/#ixzz6dDhQaHjB)

-

[Times](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3OvPfKIi427lOau0VHKv3g) when another small critter or fowl died in their hands, Yeosang would fall into a frustrated crying fit, and Wooyoung would embrace him. Then Yeosang would kiss him with aggression, and Wooyoung would let him, and depending on his mood, Yeosang would make love to Wooyoung, and sometimes he didn’t, leaving Wooyoung dry. Wooyoung let himself be used like this time and time again. It was almost the end of the Spring semester and Wooyoung hadn’t been able to work on the machine much except for a change of code here and there, sneaking another carcass into the building every time they ran a test. Aside from Yunho, he hadn’t been able to meet other people, and Wooyoung wondered if that was the reason they were stuck in a dead end.

College kids are terribly morbid; Yunho informed Wooyoung that there would be a party the Saturday before finals week. Wooyoung mentioned this to Yeosang the Friday before.

“I think we should loosen up a bit,” Wooyoung offered. “It’s been a stressful couple of months and honestly, I think we need some fresh air to get our brains working again. Think up new ideas.”

Yeosang nodded in agreement. “Okay, sure.”

At first Wooyoung was surprised that Yeosang didn't argue, then he thought about how Yeosang used to sit in a puff and pass circle at parties and he smiled to himself, thinking that maybe the Yeosang he fell in love with would reappear. Only, he didn’t show up, not in front of Wooyoung at least. Yunho told him that he saw Yeosang come in, but Wooyoung wasn't able to spot the engineering student. Slightly anxious, he joined the indica circle and relaxed himself, and even with Yeosang at the back of his mind, he enjoyed the night. Yunho made sure Wooyoung was with company at all times, and brought him back to the dorm with him when it was time to leave. The next morning, Wooyoung dropped by Mingi’s apartment to return a textbook he borrowed. It took Mingi a minute to get to the door, his hair disheveled and dressed only in his boxers.

“You slept like that?” Wooyoung asked, handing over the textbook. Mingi took it graciously, not answering the question.

“Thanks, man. I know I didn’t care about this class before but it’s the only one that I might not pass this semester so.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Wooyoung smiled. He was about to leave when his eyes caught on a familiar pair of boots near Mingi’s feet. He looked up, shooting Mingi a questioning look. He didn’t catch it at first, but after a moment he straightened his back, the smile faltering slightly as he saw Wooyoung’s hesitance.

“Didn’t see you at the party,” Wooyoung started.

“I left kinda early,” Mingi grinned sheepishly, nodding towards his room. “It’s a one time thing.”

“Oh, okay,” Wooyoung replied, holding back a frustrated sigh. Mingi knew that Wooyoung liked Yeosang. Mingi knew that Wooyoung recognized Yeosang’s dusted docs. Mingi was trying to pretend that it was nothing. Wooyoung wanted to off himself for thinking he was special. He stepped back, motioning that he was about to leave. “See you around. Tell Yeosang I won’t be in the lab today.”

Wooyoung didn’t go for the rest of the week. He tried to think of the time before he got involved with Yeosang. He was happier; a carefree guy who just needed a degree to get a job. And now he was knee deep with a machine that might destroy time and space equilibrium, his grades slowly deteriorating as he tired himself with the secret project rather than focusing on his assignments. So that week, he put in blood, sweat, and tears into his exams, hoping it would save his overall grade.  _ Yeosang can go fuck himself _ , he would tell himself whenever he thought of the boy. Truly, Wooyoung wanted to believe that if Yeosang didn’t need Wooyoung then he didn’t need the other either. This was proven false when Yeosang called him at 5:03pm on the Friday of finals week.

“Are you done with your papers?” Yeosang asked.

“I was done yesterday.” 

Wooyoung heard a frustrated sigh. “Then why didn’t you come? I was waiting for you.”

Wooyoung felt a confusion of anger and despair cloud over him. Who was he to tell Wooyoung when to come? But also, Yeosang was waiting for him. How could he leave Yeosang hanging like that? The conflicting thoughts made him pause, and he heard Yeosang take a breath to say something else, then stopped himself. Wooyoung hugged his torso and bit his lower lip, feeling the anger he held for the other slowly dissolve away.

“Okay, I can come now. Do you want me to bring any snacks?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

On the small table in the closet laid two notebooks on top of each other, and Yeosang kept a hand over them as Wooyoung walked in. Yeosang looked up expectantly, the underside of his eyes dark and his cheeks hollowed. Despite it, he smiled at Wooyoung with wide eyes, waiting for Wooyoung to ask, so he did.

“What’s that?”

“I’ve figured it out. I think this is how we’ll do it.”

Yeosang explained how they had been pulling atoms of random items from dimensions; sometimes exchanging them, sometimes letting them travel through quantum space. He suggested that if they pulled the dimension’s time and space to their dimension, exchanging atoms of the atmosphere rather than the items themselves, it would decrease the chances of anyone or anything getting hurt through the quantum space, but instead passing through the exchange of atmosphere particles.

“So we’re making a portal?” Wooyoung summarized.

“Yes,” Yeosang smiled. “And I have all the calculations here.”

“Yeosang, did you take any of the exams you had this week?”

“Sure, I took all of them. Have to get that degree somehow.”

“You’re a mad scientist.”

Yeosang smirked. “Trust me, I’m nothing compared to the man you’re about to meet.”

Wooyoung wished he would never have to meet Park Seonghwa.

So Wooyoung skimmed through the notes and pulled out his iPad, inquiring Yeosang when he didn’t understand the rushed chicken scratches. Wooyoung was worried; the calculations were too accurate, too exact. It would really pull the dimension’s atmosphere to theirs, and that was what worried him; wouldn’t that cause a shift in quantum space? He remembered Yeosang once pondering out loud if their dimension and Seonghwa’s didn’t move at the same time rate, but he didn’t say anything else since. Wooyoung suspected that Yeosang was hiding something from him, but he didn’t want to know. Get the machine rigged, get Seonghwa. And he’ll be out of here. That’s all he needed to do. Wooyoung wondered if Yeosang would still want to use him again when Seonghwa comes back. Probably not. It frustrated him, but he shook his head lightly and went back to the script log. There are other people out there that Wooyoung could fuck, and he had his time with Kang Yeosang. Now, that time will end.

Graduation weekend, the pair were given the space they needed to churn out the codes and test the machine. The first trial, a loud thunder sounded from the tip of the machine, ripping through the air and immediately closing again before the machine overheated. Yeosang concluded it was a mechanical problem and started pulling some parts off and disappearing from the room. Wooyoung spent those times out in their dorm’s dining hall, munching on bagels while watching game playthroughs on his phone. It was Sunday afternoon when Yunho came and sat with Wooyoung, introducing Wooyoung to a friend he met through his campus job.

“Wooyoung, San. San, Wooyoung. Wooyoung’s my roommate, San works with me at the Union. Now let's eat; I'm starved.”

“Nice to meet you,” San greeted, a smile lingering on his face, dimples carved deep into his cheeks.

“Yea, nice to meet you too.” Wooyoung locked his phone to turn his attention to the two; Yunho grabbed a thick order of a sandwich with sides of fruits and blueberry tarts for dessert. San had a breakfast burrito and a glass of orange juice to cleanse it. He observed San's fox-like features; sharp nose and sharp chin, thin eyes, a look that lingered between serious and not. It contrasted to Yunho's curved nose and big, round eyes, cheeks puffed with food, expression constantly playful like a puppy. They complimented each other well. “Yunho hadn’t brought you to any of the parties that we’ve been to.”

“Well, we only got to know each other while working finals week,” San explained.

“Plus those were engineering school only invites, San here’s an econs kid. Too cool for us. He has his own business school kids’ parties to go to.”

“Business school kids like to befriend kids from other schools,” San chuckled. “It’s too bad though, that I didn’t meet you earlier, Wooyoung.”

“Oh yeah? Why so?”

“You’re a ComSci major, right?” San grinned. “Business kids always have app ideas. You could’ve made big bucks.”

“Don’t worry, he has his own little secret project going on in the Engineering building,” Yunho said. “Been busy with it this entire year.”

“Oh really?” San asked, amused.

“It’s almost over,” Wooyoung sipped on a cup of coffee.

“So that means…” Yunho had his sandwich hovering by his mouth, wondering if he should end his sentence.

“Means I’ll be over it. And him.”

“Sounds life changing,” San commented.

“It is,” Wooyoung smiled. “But it takes up a lot of my time and well. It hadn't been worth it.”

“Oh that's too bad," San replied. “You’d think you’d get somewhere with all those experiments.”

Wooyoung let the word ‘experiments’ hang in the air. How did…

Wooyoung’s phone screen lit up, displaying a text from Yeosang:

_ The machine’s up, let’s get started _

The second trial, the machine held on. The air filled with electrolytes that rubbed on their skin as if invisible friction, and the shot of beam that ran from the pointed tip separated, drawing a convex across the air. Yeosang approached it, putting one hand through the opening, and Wooyoung observed as it disappeared on the other side. 

“It’s really working.” Giggles bubbled with Wooyoung’s words.

“You try it,” Yeosang said, his breath stuck by his throat, trying to contain shouts of excitement. Wooyoung came closer, feeling the electrolytes in the atmosphere thicken in volume. He lowered his head and tried putting it through the opening.

“You’re crazy,” Yeosang chuckled, but he didn’t stop the other; only held him by the shoulders. Wooyoung felt the buzz of the current through his ears as he passed through, closing his eyes then opening them again when his neck reached the opening; he could feel the difference in the temperature, but the air was just the same. On the other side, the closet was dark, the only light coming through was from an open door. He looked around, and everything was in place; cleaning utensils and chemicals stacked on metal cupboards. On one corner where Yeosang had his small desk, was instead a janitor, staring at Wooyoung’s floating head bewilderedly, shaking in place with a mop in his hand. Wooyoung jumped at the sight, pulling his head back through the portal quickly. 

“Shit,” he cursed. “Someone saw me. I think we should switch it off for now.”

Yeosang tapped on the tablet and the beam disappeared into thin air, only leaving the static in the air to dissolve itself. Wooyoung came closer and Yeosang pulled him into a tight embrace, smiling into Wooyoung’s hair.

“We did it!”

Wooyoung wrapped his arms around Yeosang’s torso, smiling solemnly. 

“Yeah, we did.”

Yeosang pulled back and gave Wooyoung a kiss on his lips; a deep one that made Wooyoung soft, melting into Yeosang’s hold, pushing and pulling and playing with every touch. Just when Wooyoung thought he would disappear into Yeosang’s world yet again, Yeosang let go, and cupped Wooyoung’s face with his palms, thumbs caressing his cheeks.

“Thank you.”

Wooyoung couldn’t remember the last time he looked into Yeosang’s eyes, this close, this deeply. It seemed like the dark void thinned, a glimmer of hope settling into the pupils. He wanted to be the reason for that hope, but he knew it belonged to Seonghwa. What was a thank you compared to the love that Wooyoung had yearned for instead? He blinked, looking away for a second before smiling back at Yeosang.

“It’s no big deal.”

Yeosang gave Wooyoung another hug. 

“I can’t wait for Seonghwa to see this.”

-

It has been a year since Seonghwa saw Kim Hongjoong. 

After being absorbed into a Master’s program Seonghwa tried his best to keep himself focused on his studies. Nights where he dreamt of Yeosang, he tried to push it off as just a dream albeit it being very hard to do so, when Yeosang seemed almost surreal. He was now able to create an environment for them to be in rather than staying afloat in the middle of nowhere, as long as they both have a similar memory of the place. Seonghwa liked being in the library the most; it was quiet and calm, and surrounded by books, they would tell each other stories that were kept secret between them and the imaginary walls.

Yeosang told Seonghwa that he’d always admired the way he looked when he stood in class during a presentation. It was how they met; a gen ed class, but Seonghwa took it so seriously, Yeosang couldn’t help but fall for the handsome man who spoke so intelligently. So different from the other college kids; he wore a cardigan over his tucked-in pressed shirt and black jeans rather than the usual hoodie, actually putting in effort to comb his hair. Yeosang approached Seonghwa later in disguise of being interested in his topic, but honestly, Yeosang just wanted a reason to talk to the handsome classmate. After a few coffee dates, Seonghwa told Yeosang that he wasn’t seeing anyone else. The second time Yeosang was at Seonghwa’s apartment, he told the older that it’d be nice to be in a steady relationship after being single for so long. One day in the library as they were studying, Yeosang borrowed a wooden pencil from Seonghwa that Yeosang would eventually keep until the day of his death. 

It sounded too familiar to be just a dream to Seonghwa. He knew how dangerous these dreams have been for him, but he had little control over them. Yeosang has been appearing more frequently; the younger claimed that he had wanted to see Seonghwa more, and that was the reason. Seonghwa pretended to understand. It was only second nature for him to not want to complicate relationships, even if they were fake and made up only in his mind.

It was early Spring when Seonghwa woke up to his roommate’s voice calling his name. He didn’t realize when he walked in, but the slender boy sat on his bed and shook him relentlessly despite his gentle voice.

“Park Seonghwa, you’ve been really weird lately,” San told as Seonghwa separated his eyelids.

“Choi San, when did I let you come into my room uninvited?” Seonghwa replied with a raspy voice, closing his eyes, hoping to see Yeosang again.

“Are you sick? You look like you have a fever of some sort. Are you possessed? Did someone cast a spell on you?”

“That’s two questions too many,” Seonghwa retorted. “I’m not sick, possessed, nor bewitched. Now let me sleep.”

“See that’s the problem,” the other sighed, crossing his arms. “You’re not the type to sleep in. You always, always, have your breakfast, then head out to the library, sit there for God knows how long, and come back late at night. Now all you want to do is sleep. Have you written enough for Kim?”

“I’m short 15 pages but I’ll get to it; now scat.”

“I, the only friend you have after you chased out your lover, am here to help you.”

“When were we ever friends?”

“Starting from today. As a kind human being, also as your roommate and unfortunately fellow coursemate, I’m genuinely worried. Come on now, get up.”

San pushed the half awake man into their shared shower, and nagged him about the pointers that Seonghwa made so far that their professor wasn’t happy with, as told from his perspective. Professor Kim was usually softer on Seonghwa; knowing that if there were things that could be fixed in his papers Seonghwa would be more than willing to correct them. However with San, he was stricter; San was stubborn, wanting to validate his points and debated his reasoning. While Kim appreciated his passion, he told San that his hard head could get him stuck if he wasn’t more flexible with others’ ideas and opinions. While listening to him talk over the warm scatter of the shower, Seonghwa could tell that San had to study his papers, from how he knew it like the back of his hand. Maybe San was right; he was losing touch of his sense of reality, so much so that their professor gave San the task to read through his work and critique it. 

“Is Kim mad?” was the first thing Seonghwa asked when he walked out of the shower with a towel around his waist. His tone was soft, like a prey that had given into fate that he was about to be eaten. San’s expression softened, his lower lip pouting slightly.

“He’s not mad, I don’t think. Just disappointed.”

_ That’s worse, _ Seonghwa thought to himself.

“Hey, don’t worry ‘bout it. Just write the paper. He’ll like whatever you do, anyway. You know he’s got a soft spot for you.”

Hearing San say it out loud made the guilt that laid in Seonghwa’s chest grow. A few nights later without Yeosang in his dreams and 15 pages submitted, Kim took him and San to dinner, conversations over  _ sake _ spanning from department gossip to issues in their niche. Seonghwa had been better at socializing, opening up to the few close people in his circle, realizing that they filled in the hole that Hongjoong left. The Japanese restaurant was on the edge of campus, and as they walked out Seonghwa saw a glimpse of the art center, lit brightly and crowds lingering by. He took another glance when he saw blue locks curled over the familiar bright eyes and pointed nose. The stare lasted a second too long, the other catching his eyes in the dimly lit streets, keeping it locked as he tried to recognize Seonghwa from across the street. 

“The art center’s quite the sight, isn’t it?” Kim approached Seonghwa. San followed Seonghwa’s view, only for Seonghwa to look back at his company with a soft smile. 

“I’ve never been,” Seonghwa told.

“Oh yea?” the elder questioned. “We should visit, then. Seems they’re having an exhibition opening. They’ll be happy to have us, I’m sure. Eager to share their works, those passionate bastards.”

Seonghwa hesitated, but Kim had already started walking as the pedestrian crossing light turned green, the alcohol in his veins making him more impulsive than usual. San followed behind promptly, not wanting to keep the professor. Seonghwa sighed, feeling like he has been set up, crossing the street with a heavy heart and a tight lip. He can see in the corner of his eye the bright blue head, hoping he would ignore Seonghwa’s presence. 

The three walked into the building and followed the crowd into the featured gallery. The exhibition was gorgeous; almost dream-like. The room was dimly lit, the only help for sight came from the hallway fluorescent lights and the fairy lights that were strung across the ceiling, making an impression of a star speckled sky. A projector hung from the ceiling, lighting up one wall with a home-video themed clip of people jumping around, running and skateboarding, then hanging out in an obscure room, sharing drinks and fake laughing. The actors and actresses wore similarly themed clothes in white and beige and grey, and the pieces were put on display on mannequins that stood along two parallel walls of the room. Seonghwa skimmed through the small printed descriptions accompanying the displayed pieces; they were inspired by the different phases of the moon, and it reminded him of one night when Hongjoong asked him if he believed that the moon listens when you talk to it. Seonghwa had replied that if you feel better talking to the moon, then it probably was listening. It was against all scientific facts; the moon is only a ginormous rock orbiting earth void of life, but maybe a part of him hoped that it was true as well. Or maybe he just wanted to see Hongjoong’s eyes turn into crescents as he smiled at Seonghwa’s answer, resting his chin in his palms as he dreamily looked out the window. That night, Seonghwa looked at Hongjoong as if he was the moon.

“How’s the show?”

Seonghwa didn’t know if he felt life bloom into him, or if death crept into the pit of his stomach. The familiar voice dripped into Seonghwa’s brain like a drug that he had been void for far too long. He had to hold himself together as he turned towards Hongjoong. The Textile Design major returned the glance, a soft smile lingering.

“It’s great.” Seonghwa tried his best to casually look around to see where his professor and coursemate was; they had apparently escaped the room, opting for the fruit punch and cheese and crackers being served by the hallway. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say it’s yours.”

“Lucky guess?”

Seonghwa didn’t want to say it, but he knew Hongjoong too well for comfort.

“How have you been?” Hongjoong asked.

The taller sighed softly; part of him was happy that they were having a civil conversation, another part was nervous about talking to Hongjoong after what felt like a lifetime. “Good. I’m doing my Masters’ now. How ‘bout you?”

“Fine. This is my senior year solo exhibition, so it’s kind of a big deal for me. To be honest with you I feel like spiders could crawl out my throat any time soon; that’s how nervous I am right now, but I’m glad everyone’s having a good time.”

“Well, you did an amazing job.”

“Thank you.”

_ I missed you. _

Seonghwa tried his best not to say it out loud, but he turned silent from the effort. Hongjoong lingered for another word from the taller, but when nothing was said, he gave Seonghwa a quick look in the eyes and smiled.

“It was nice seeing you.”

“Yea, you too.”

A pause, giving Seonghwa another chance to say something. He held his breath, tongue stuck in place. As his lips separated, Hongjoong walked away. Seonghwa pinched the bridge of his nose. Should he have said more? If so, what else could he have said? He decided to return to his company for the night, joining them with a grab of a cracker from San’s plate.

“Did you see a friend?” the professor asked.

“Yea. Actually, it’s his exhibition.”

“Oh, very interesting.” The elder popped a whole cheese cube into his mouth. “You have art friends?”

San smirked, and Seonghwa gave him a warning glare. 

“Acquaintance.” The word dragged Seonghwa’s heart deeper down his chest cavity than it already was. 

“Well, I think I should get home soon before my wife calls. Calls are usually followed by a nag when I get home, so.” He rolled his eyes jokingly. “Don’t want any of that.”

Hongjoong was still in sight as they dropped their disposable plates and cutlery in the trash. Seonghwa gave him a glance and their eyes met for a second before Hongjoong returned his attention to the people surrounding him. Seonghwa’s heart felt like it was about to jump out of his chest as he told his professor to give him a minute to say goodbye to his friend. The taller man walked towards Hongjoong, realizing then that he’s slightly out of his mind, smiling as he gave Hongjoong’s company quick glances.

“Can I steal Hongjoong from you guys for a minute? Won’t take long.”

He took Hongjoong’s wrist and pulled him aside.

“Hongjoong, can we… do you want to have dinner with me, some time?”

Hongjoong’s expression was a mix of surprise and sadness. Seonghwa didn’t react to it; he had no expectations, he just wanted to let it out. 

“It still hurts, you know?” Hongjoong told, lips trembling slightly.

Seonghwa felt like something sharp slashed through his chest, but he knew that it wouldn’t compare to what Hongjoong felt.

“I’m sorry. I know I can’t fix that, but I still want to try.”  _ I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. _ It was a loop stuck in Seonghwa’s head; he just needed to make sure he said it at the right time.

Hongjoong sighed. “Can we talk about this later?”

“Just let me know if I have a chance at all.”

“Give me your phone.”

Seonghwa did as he’s told. Hongjoong typed into it and handed it back.

“My new number. This is the chance I’m giving you.”

“I miss you.”

_ Shit, that wasn’t the right time. Park Seonghwa, you’re an idiot. _

Moisture collected on Hongjoong’s lids, but he smiled and sniffed it away. “I’ll see you around.”

-

“Jung Wooyoung, did you write this?”

Yeosang pointed to a corner of his notebook where there was a doodle of a pigeon, and below it wrote “Dimension Traveller 2.0”. Wooyoung had just entered the lab’s closet after breakfast, his messenger bag still slung against his shoulder. He glanced at it with pursed lips and looked back up at Yeosang.

“Yea I did that.”

“God, you gave me a heart attack,” Yeosang sighed, rolling his eyes before closing the notebook shut and going back to the tablet. He started keying in a random dimension’s number. “Your writing looks exactly like Seonghwa’s, did you know that?”

Wooyoung thought about it. He didn’t really realize it, but maybe it was because it was his own writing, and he didn’t think much about how it compared to others’. 

“And Dimension Traveller 2.0? How much more obvious can you get?”

“Second on the list is Zap Zap Machine. Is that better?”

“Of course not,” Yeosang snapped. He paused to think. “Pigeon’s Flight sounds cool.”

“We’re really dedicating this to the pigeon, huh?”

“Couldn’t have gone far without it,” Yeosang grinned. Wooyoung put his bag down on the floor by the small desk. He approached the machine with crossed arms, looking at Yeosang in all his majesty, an actual genius with the face of a prince who managed to figure out dimension travel, hair falling into a perfect mess over his forehead. Wooyoung tried to shake the thought out from his head as Yeosang began his grandiose topic of the day. “So, we probably should run a couple more tests to make sure it’s solid. We need to test a few things; how long can the portal run without exploding; how far can us, a foreign body in a different dimension, stay on the other end before returning here.” Yeosang paused. “And I was thinking… maybe we should prepare ourselves too.”

Wooyoung let a moment pass between them. “For the worst?”

“For the worst.”

The programmer’s eyes jumped to the floor below them. Wooyoung thought he had seen the worst; dead animals, burnt hands, despair in failures of their experiments. But a shift in time and space was yet to come, and he knew Yeosang thought the same. Wooyoung suddenly realized the false sense of calm that they went through after successfully entering a portal to a different dimension. Now they had to face the reality of what could become of their play with quantum mysteries. 

“And how do we do that?”

“Maybe we can start by preparing the world around us for our absence. Live the rest of our days with only good things. And…”

Yeosang stepped down from the platform and pulled Wooyoung by the chin. Wooyoung closed his eyes, knowing what was to come. Their lips met, then tongues touched; yet another lustful kiss to satisfy their own cravings for touch, nothing more, nothing less. Yeosang pulled away, leaving a peck on Wooyoung’s nose.

“Enjoy the time we have left together.”

Yeosang took a step back, going back to his tablet. Wooyoung didn’t question it. How could he when Yeosang was suggesting that the days to come would be filled with just the two of them, together?

The experiments that they conducted concluded that a foreign object can last roughly two hours in a different dimension; they watched a ramen bowl vaporize into thin air right in front of their sleep-dusted eyes, having conducted the experiment at 3am, worried that the janitor would walk into them again. A different experiment concluded that the machine could run the portal open for a good five hours before the pointed tip starts to sizzle. The tablet, however, overheated often, shutting down every hour or so. Yeosang found replacements for the electronic device, making it last as long as the portal could.

“Where do you even get these things?” Wooyoung asked one day when the tablet barely made it through another portal opening. “The one that busted the last time couldn’t go on for this long.”

“I got friends who know how to make good parts. Alloys. We need to explore those more.”

The night the experiments ended, they took shots of whiskey in the closet, deciding that tomorrow would be the day they pulled Park Seonghwa into their dimension. It was also the night Wooyoung got bent over for the first time, finally understanding what Yeosang had felt under him all this while.

**X**

At first he couldn’t breath; the hardness that filled him was overwhelming, but the sensation of the length being thrusted in and out of him became pleasurable, raising hairs on the back of his neck, hitting a spot that brought stars to his sight. Soon he was a mess under Yeosang’s control, one hand stroking him mercilessly while the other holding on to his hip. He was barely able to stand as his knees weakened with every push, white liquid sputtering out of him without him even realizing it. After Yeosang released, they both clamored to the floor, lips unresting as they reached for whatever was left of each other. 

**X**

They grasped time as if it was a cloth that could be dragged and pulled over them, covering their secrets, hiding their unsaid words and leftover bitterness. Yeosang reached down to kiss Wooyoung’s neck, tasting his skin with aggression, pulling moans out of the other. His eyes then darted onto the machine that accompanied them from across Yeosang’s shoulder, a low glow coming from the tablet’s display. He closed his eyelids shut, trying not to think of their inevitable demise. But the distraction quieted his moans and slowed his breathing, his mind in an unreachable place now. Yeosang glanced up at the other when he realized this, raising his head so he could see Wooyoung’s face.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just.” Wooyoung trailed. All he could think of was how he would probably cease to exist tomorrow. And if he continued to exist, what would it be for? He was too entranced in Kang Yeosang, and knowing the existence of a dangerous machine that could be misused by anyone… The thought didn’t rest well with him. Maybe Yeosang was misusing it right now. Maybe Park Seonghwa wasn’t a great person. Maybe he was actually a dictator that could ruin the world as he knew it. However, from the stories that Yeosang had told, it seemed unlikely. Questions that he kept from the other helped grow his worries; how was Yeosang going to convince Seonghwa to come with them? Did Yeosang send another signal to Seonghwa without him knowing? Maybe the Park Seonghwa that Yeosang knew would follow strangers into odd portals without questioning anything; not odd seeing how he replied to two of Yeosang’s random notes. Maybe it would work. It still didn’t ease Wooyoung’s mind.

“Do you want me to keep going?” Yeosang asked in a whisper, genuinely concerned as he looked Wooyoung in the eyes. The dark void has cleared. For once, Wooyoung saw the doe eyed messiah he had always perceived Yeosang to be. He pulled the other down and gave him a deep kiss; the most sincere he had given anyone, a kiss where he didn’t have to tell Yeosang what it meant; that Wooyoung wanted him, that he loved him. That he wanted Yeosang to stay by his side forever. Yeosang understood it all, and for the first time, he melted into Wooyoung’s kiss instead of returning it, letting his shoulders fall into a dead weight as his chest rested on Wooyoung’s. They stayed like that for a minute, breathing in each other’s scent and tasting their salivas indulgently. Then Wooyoung let go of his hold on Yeosang, and Yeosang rested his head on the crook of Wooyoung’s neck, letting his body slip to the floor onto his side. He wrapped an arm around Wooyoung’s waist.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I got you into this.”

Wooyoung felt hot tears form in his eye sockets. It was so painful hearing Yeosang apologize so sincerely, he almost didn’t want to believe he meant it at all. 

“No, it was my decision,” Wooyoung whispered back. “I chose to stay with you. I knew the consequences. How was I supposed to let you go, Kang Yeosang? After you stole my heart like that.”

Yeosang bit his lower lip. Wooyoung was good to him, and he had been selfish; of course he knew how he was hurting Wooyoung, and he thought by sleeping with Mingi it would make Wooyoung step back. In the end, Yeosang was the one who pulled him back in. He needed Wooyoung more than the other way around. 

“You don’t have to stay tomorrow,” Yeosang told Wooyoung, his voice cracking. “I can go by myself, get Seonghwa and come back. I’ll be fine.”

Wooyoung kept quiet. He didn’t consider it an option; now that he’s here, he won’t be able to leave until he knew that the machine had fulfilled its purpose. He had to know. He might not have wanted to meet Seonghwa before, but now he’s curious to see the person that was worth ripping through time and dimensions for with his own eyes. They fell asleep intertwined in each other’s limbs, both mentally and physically exhausted, hoping for warmth from the other to fight the cold linoleum. Yeosang woke up first, cleaning up before clothing himself, then approaching Wooyoung with a wet towel. Wooyoung woke to the cold touch, letting Yeosang take care of him with his gentle hands. It was the first time he had done so. 

The clatter of two cans of coffee from the vending machine echoed through the hallway. Summer break had already started, and the department building had been void of life since, except for a couple of lingering professors and overachieving students. Wooyoung didn’t know what to think when San approached him before he was able to walk back to the lab, wearing a campus sweater over jeans, hair in disarray. 

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but you need to stop before things get out of hand.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened.

“It’s already out of hand,” he replied.

San’s eyes were sharper than when they first met, eyebrows furrowed on his forehead, his lips twisted at the ends. 

“You can still stop this. Yeosang likes you. He’ll stop if you tell him to.”

Wooyoung scoffed. 

“You think Yeosang will stop? What has stopped him before? The dead bird? His burnt hand? The multiple times we fucked, and I made it apparent to him what I would sacrifice for him, how much I loved him and that he didn’t need Park Seonghwa? Did that stop him? I don’t think a simple ‘no’ will change his mind now.”

San gave Wooyoung a curious glare, but he stayed quiet. Wooyoung’s mind was in a furious scatter. He didn’t care about how San knew about the machine. He didn’t care if the world was about to end at his hands. He had prepared for this for a long time. He took the two cans of coffee and turned away from San, walking towards the lab. 

“It was nice meeting you in this reality. I hope I get to meet you again, Park Seonghwa.”

Wooyoung stopped in his tracks. 

“What did you-”

The hallway was empty.

It was sweltering in the closet, summer’s warmth starting to creep into the air of the condensed space. Yeosang was scribbling in his notebook, looking up when Wooyoung came back. He made last minute notes for Wooyoung, roughly explaining about time speeds and how it could differ between dimensions. The other was barely listening, gulping down his coffee quietly. 

“You ready?” Yeosang asked after taking a sip of the caffeinated drink. Wooyoung watched as Yeosang gazed at him as he nodded in response, noting his uncertainty. “You sure? You don’t look too good.”

Wooyoung chuckled anxiously. “Must be the nerves.”

Yeosang smiled. He rubbed Wooyoung’s shoulder with comfort, then turned back to the tablet. He was glad that Wooyoung decided to stick through; he might be too nervous himself if he wasn’t there with him. “We’ve prepared for this day for so long. It’s going to be fine; just as we planned, okay?”

Wooyoung nodded again, turning his attention to the tablet. Yeosang keyed in the familiar dimension number, and they both watched as the pointed tip opened the portal again as it always had. Wooyoung held his breath, hoping the machine wouldn’t crash on them today. Yeosang started walking towards the portal, at first peering through itl, then realizing that it was dark on the other side. He started to worry.

_ Is Park Seonghwa not coming? _ Yeosang thought to himself.  _ No, he never breaks his promises. _

Wooyoung poked his head through the portal and looked around, observing the closet’s musty smell and the silence that rang through it. When he pulled back he turned towards Yeosang.

“Seems like it’s safe to go through,” he said. “We can go take a look.”

“I’ll go,” Yeosang offered. There was a hint of anxiety in his bluffed bravery. “I told you last night, that you can leave if you want to. The offer still stands. I can handle this.”

“No, I’ll stay and make sure everything runs smoothly. You have your phone with you?”

Yeosang glanced at his lit phone screen. “Full battery. Okay, if anything happens call me then.” 

The taller took a deep breath before stepping through the portal. He felt the static in his ears as he passed his head through, a tingle of electricity on his skin. When his entire body had safely passed, he looked around. Everything was an exact copy of the closet from his reality, except for the small desk in the corner. He looked back through the portal and saw Wooyoung peering through.

“I’m going to walk around for a bit,” Yeosang told him. 

“Okay. Be careful.”

Yeosang reached one of his hands towards Wooyoung. Wooyoung was confused at first, then realized that he wanted to hold Wooyoung’s hand. He pulled his hand out and let it pass through the split in the atmosphere, catching Yeosang’s palm and giving it a tight grip, caressing the side of the other’s hand with his thumb.

“I’ll be back,” Yeosang said.

“I love you.”

Yeosang felt hairs on the back of his neck stand, a twist of knots in his stomach. 

“Me too,” he whispered.

Outside the lab, Yeosang checked the room number. 103; the same as his own dimension. He walked along the corridors and observed the empty classes. An abandoned building? He took the stairs to the ground floor and noted the lit monitors in the computer labs; no, just a quiet morning in the building. It looked lively compared to the one in Yeosang’s dimension; are the students really working on thermodynamics assignments during summer break? He walked around before deciding he needed to go further out. He took out his phone to update Wooyoung on this, but he saw the missing bars on the top bar of the screen before dialing the number.  _ Shit. _ His line doesn’t work in this dimension. If he went upstairs just to tell Wooyoung this, he would be wasting time. 

Yeosang collected every ounce of courage he had in him before he walked out the main entrance of the building.

-

Hongjoong looked like a fairy whenever he walked out of the shower, the skin on his shoulders white and smooth, his abdomen lean and waist tight. Seonghwa avoided looking at him at those times, because if he did Hongjoong would catch him looking at places that were not his eyes and tease him. Instead he busied himself, shuffling around the room - their room - collecting his things and gathering them into his backpack like a squirrel hoarding nuts for winter. Hongjoong smirked at the sight, observing how well Seonghwa dressed today; a pressed light blue shirt tucked into dark brown pants, a dark blue tie ready to be tightened beneath his collar. He patted down a blazer, putting it on briskly.

“Do you have another presentation today?” Hongjoong asked as he pulled on his underwear, using the towel that was on his waist to dry his now dark hair. 

“Yea, shouldn’t take long,” Seonghwa told. “You’ll wait for me?”

“Did you forget? I’m heading back home for the weekend.” 

“Oh right, sorry.” Seonghwa sat on the bed to put on his socks, loafers waiting next to his feet. “I’ve been so out of it lately. Sorry. I’ll try to come back as soon as possible so we can have dinner before you leave.”

Hongjoong smiled at the other, slipping on a sweater before approaching him. He fixed Seonghwa’s tie and straightened the collar. He leaned down and pecked Seonghwa’s forehead, which the other responded by slipping a finger into Hongjoong’s round collar, pulling him down for a deep kiss.

“Take your time,” Hongjoong breathed. “I’ll wait for you.”

Seonghwa had called Hongjoong the morning after the exhibition opening and asked if he wanted to get lunch together. Hongjoong, still half asleep, scolded Seonghwa for waking him up too early on a Sunday. He still liked the effort. There hadn’t been another incident since then; no mention of Yeosang in the year they’ve been together. Hongjoong assumed that Seonghwa was over it, or even if he wasn’t, he was just happy to not hear the name again. He wondered if he should cook something for the graduating Masters student; he himself decided to continue his studies at the art center, helping out with administration while the department pays his tuition fees in exchange. It had been hard, working part time at the museum to pay for rent and food, but he was glad Seonghwa offered to share his room with Hongjoong, lessening the burden. Seonghwa was a year ahead, and working to polish his thesis while Hongjoong was still experimenting and researching his topic a semester into the program. Even so, Seonghwa wasn't competition, he was an inspiration; Hongjoong pushed himself because he knew he could do better, and Seonghwa encouraged him as well. Seonghwa was good for him.

He was looking through the refrigerator for ingredients when San walked into the kitchen, half awake and still in a loose t-shirt and shorts.

“Don’t you have a presentation today?” Hongjoong asked.

“What’s the date today?” San drawled, grabbing a glass and filling it with tap water.

“10th,” Hongjoong replied. The other sputtered, almost throwing the glass into the sink as he ran back into his room.

“Seonghwa already left?” he shouted from his room.

“About fifteen minutes ago.”

“That fucking bastard, why couldn’t he just wake me up-” He continued to mumble incoherently as he moved around between his room and the restroom, appearing in a wrinkled white shirt and tie hanging loosely on his neck, a windbreaker in hand, looking in the restroom mirror if his jeans was dirty before walking out. Near the doorway as he slipped into his dress shoes he glanced quickly at the other. Hongjoong had gotten out a block of beef to thaw, checking drawers for sauces.

“Are you planning to drive tonight?”

“Yea, heading back home. How’d you know?”

“Think twice ‘bout it, okay?”

Before Hongjoong could question him further, San had ran out of the front door, locking it behind him. 

A Vietnamese beef bowl was what Hongjoong had attempted to make for dinner. The beef wasn’t the problem; he was used to mixing sauces and marinating meat with salt and pepper and it’d taste great roasted or grilled for a simple dinner. It was the eggs that burned on one side while he hesitated flipping it, and its yolk that broke on impact, losing its curved shape. And maybe it was the cabbage of the salad too, slightly too thickly sliced, threatening anyone who would dare to bite it to a heavy unsatisfying crunch. Hongjoong had already plated the bowl by the time he realized this, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t give himself too much criticism. Seonghwa was the better cook between them anyway, and it was enough that he tried.

Hongjoong was frying chicken nuggets when Seonghwa got home, a glass of wine in hand to keep himself company. It was twenty past five, probably too early for alcohol, but he took it in sips, reminding himself that he had to drive later that night. 

“Did you cook?” Seonghwa exclaimed, throwing his stuff on a wall near the kitchen entrance.

“Yup,” Hongjoong replied, catching Seonghwa’s quick peck on the lips. “Are you hungry? We can have an early dinner.”

“Yes please, I’m starving.” The taller looked through drawers for cutlery, admiring the full bowls set on the counter. 

“Can you check if it’s still warm? If not we can microwave it.”

“It’s perfect,” Seonghwa smiled brightly.

It was far from perfect, but Hongjoong took the compliment, smiling crescent eyes as he watched Seonghwa dig in. Seonghwa was silent for a good two minutes, just eating, before Hongjoong asked about the presentation. He gave his usual brief update followed by a long comment of what he thought about the entire ordeal, asking for agreement from Hongjoong. He ate a lot slower, trying his best to keep up with Seonghwa’s complicated terms, stopping him once in a while to explain, which he did gladly. Hongjoong was only halfway done with dinner when they were on the floor making out.

“San?” Hongjoong asked in a quick pause.

“I told him to leave us alone for the night,” Seonghwa told, unbuttoning his shirt.  _ Perfect. _

The two fell asleep in their shared bed, and when he woke Hongjoong tiptoed back to the living room in search of his phone. He checked the time: 11:30. He didn’t expect the cooking to tire him out so; maybe it was the exercise after that added on to it. Was it too late to drive back?

Just in time, the phone started ringing,  _ Mother _ displayed across the screen.

“Hi mom. Yea, sorry I’m running a bit late.” Hongjoong took a bite of his leftover dinner. “No, I’m still at home. I’ll be there, yea. Okay. Mhmm. Love you too, bye.”

He walked back into his room, waking the taller with a soft shake.

“Hwa. Seonghwa. I’m heading out, okay?”

“It’s late,” Seonghwa replied raspily. “Are you sure you can drive? Do you wanna get an Uber instead?”

“Naah, that’ll cost too much. I’ll be fine, I didn’t drink as much as you did.”

“Okay,” Seonghwa grumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Do you want me to see you out?”

“No, you need to rest,” Hongjoong told, putting on a sweater. He grabbed his jacket from the dresser and the duffel bag that he had packed earlier. He leaned down to kiss Seonghwa’s cheek. “I’ll call you when I get there.”

“Hongjoong.”

“Yea?”

“I love you.”

Hongjoong squirmed by the door, feeling his heart twist into a million knots, his smile spreading to his ears. Seonghwa smirked at the sight.

“Come here.”

Hongjoong pounced on the taller, hugging him tightly over the thick blanket that kept him warm.

“Why now? I need to leave! You’re so sneaky,” Hongjoong whined, pinching Seonghwa’s sides, making him squirm and giggle.

“Say it back,” Seonghwa threatened playfully.

“I love you too! Duh!” Hongjoong rested his cheek on Seonghwa’s shoulder. “You’re making me not wanna leave.”

“Then don’t.”

“I can’t. I promised my mom. It’s been awhile.”

Seonghwa reached out to pat the back of his head. 

“Okay. Be careful.”

Yeosang visited Seonghwa’s dream after.

“ _ Do you know where the Engineering building is? It’s one of the older buildings near center campus. _ ”

“ _ I have an idea of where it is. _ ” Seonghwa paused. They had chosen the parking lot outside of Seonghwa’s apartment this time; Yeosang said during cold winter nights they would sit in Seonghwa’s car and watch the stars as they talked. So they did the same tonight, except they sat on the car roof, watching the dark sky glitter. “ _ Why? _ ”

“ _ Come when you wake. The machine’s ready. _ ”

Seonghwa felt a lack of air from his lungs. He was happy, with Hongjoong, with his life. He was about to graduate soon. And Yeosang was going to take him away?

“ _ Yeosang, I need to think about this. _ ”

“ _ What do you mean? I thought you wanted to come? _ ” Seonghwa saw a slight anguish flash on Yeosang’s face, and he felt an immediate sense of guilt rush through him.

“ _ I mean, are you sure the machine’s safe? Have you tried going through it yourself? There hadn’t been any other glitches, you know, like the first time you got through? It’s what led to this, remember? _ ”

“ _ That feels like a happy accident, _ ” Yeosang admitted, the worry in his face slowly turning into relief. “ _ Don’t worry, we tested it all out. Just come to Lab 103 and go to its closet when you wake. I promise, everything will be fine _ .”

_ Like hell. _

Seonghwa smiled at the younger. If it was just a dream, what’s wrong with breaking this promise? There’s no need to upset this curious doll of a boy. Seonghwa instead decided to enjoy the view. It started snowing, but they didn’t feel cold in their thin cotton clothes. Yeosang let out a giggle.

“ _ Funny. The things you were worried about is exactly what my worries were as well, about a week ago. But it’s all good now. It’s been a tough year without you but tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll see you again. _ ”

“ _ A year? _ ” Seonghwa repeated. Yeosang nodded. “ _ That’s how long it’s been since you started building the machine? _ ”

“ _ About. Why? _ ”

“ _ Yeosang, it’s been more than three years since I got your message in the book. _ ”

The younger’s eyes widened in surprise. Before he could say anything else, Seonghwa’s phone buzzed him awake. As he reached for it, his blurred vision saw San’s shadow by the doorway. When he rubbed the sleep away San was gone, and an unknown number displayed on the screen of his phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Seonghwa?”

“Yes?”

“This is Hongjoong’s dad. I heard you’re a good friend of his. I just wanted to let you know that he got into an accident last night-”

Seonghwa sat up, the covers that still smelled like Hongjoong falling onto his lap with a heavy weight.

“-and he’s in the hospital right now, doctors said he’s fine, and I don’t want you to panic. He hasn’t woken yet but I think he’d be happy to see you when he does. I’ll send you the location of the hospital but if you-”

“I’ll be there.”

A speeding car had lost control and hit Hongjoong from behind, throwing him off the road and crashing him into some trees, was what Seonghwa caught before he hurriedly hung up. He tried to imagine it in his head a million times and he still can’t see how it could happen to someone close to him. To Hongjoong. How far did he manage to go before it happened? The hospital he was admitted to was only half an hour away from campus, and he drove quietly. The empty freeway and dark green trees lining the road distracted Seonghwa, bringing his thoughts to what Yeosang said in the dream.

_ It had been a tough year.  _ A year? It’s been three years since he met Hongjoong that late fall. Three years since the time he told Yeosang he'd wait for him. And after Seonghwa learned to deal with Yeosang playing with his head, and finally knowing his place in this world, why now? 

The scent of hospitals always left Seonghwa uneased. Laboratories smelled like settled chemicals; reactions only being created when intended, otherwise each matter was to their own. They sat in their place on the shelves, where they were supposed to. Hospitals on the other hand mixed all those chemicals together. He might not see it but a chemical reaction was happening nearby; from cleaning chlorines killing dirt on one corner of the hallway to nurses testing blood samples in the room next door, and he didn’t like being unsure of what was going on. The stenches in his nose made him uncomfortable.

Two chemicals that weren’t meant to be can create an explosive reaction when left unattended.

Seonghwa followed the instructions given to him by Hongjoong’s father, going through long hallways and taking elevators up to places that were unfamiliar to him. He reached the numbered door; room 18, Kim Hongjoong. Inside stood the man that Seonghwa had been in contact with, stout with a square face, as if only recently gained the extra layers. On a chair that sat against one side of the wall was his small mother, on her phone, replying messages from friends and family, hands wrinkled from housework, face wrinkled from years of offering smiles no matter the situation. Today was no exception.

“You must be Seonghwa,” she welcomed. Seonghwa bowed, greeting her in Korean. The man approached Seonghwa, reaching for a handshake, then pulling Seonghwa into a hug. Seonghwa stiffened into an awkward smile, his eyes darting to see Hongjoong lying in the bed. He looked as if he was just sleeping, chest raising and falling, if not for the bandages on his nose and cheek, and the red swelling on his lower lip, slightly apart to show his straight teeth. 

“He still hasn’t woken up?”

“Not yet,” the father replied, his eyes following Seonghwa’s worried glare. “Soon, the doctors said.”

“It’s nothing serious, right?”

“Some bones in his fingers and one rib cracked from impact but otherwise, no, nothing serious. Glad we got those airbags installed.” The man chuckled to break tension. He turned to watch the boy, who hadn’t released his stare from Hongjoong, his lips sealed tight as if once he released them something might spill. He turned to his wife, who nodded back at him. “Do you want to wait with us?”

“Yes, if that’s okay with you.”

“Okay. I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”

“Thank you.”

Seonghwa neared Hongjoong’s bed, standing by his side and observing the bandages. He wanted to hold Hongjoong’s hand but it was casted, so he left them as is, worried he’d break something if he touched the other. 

“You’re a handsome one,” Hongjoong mother’s said. Seonghwa looked up at her in surprise. She gave him a warm smile, eyes in crescents in semblance to Hongjoong. “Quite the catch.”

Seonghwa smiled shyly. “Thank you.”

“You know Hongjoong; he likes his sleep. But he’s a strong one. Don’t worry too much.”

Seonghwa let a moment pass. “I just wish I stopped him last night.”

“And I wish I didn’t call. But at least he’s safe now, right?”

“Safe from what? Your nagging, I hope?”

The two turned towards Hongjoong and watched as his eyelids fluttered and blinked. The mother came nearer and cupped Hongjoong’s cheeks, slightly teary. He smiled in return, lips chapped as he turned his gaze to Seonghwa.

“You’re here.”

Hongjoong’s father came back with a cup of coffee for Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s older brother behind him. They broke into chatter as they saw Hongjoong awake, throwing playful banter to each other in between more serious conversations. Seonghwa dipped in and out of the room, occasionally dozing off on the chairs in the lobby of the ward. He tried his best to not make his presence too obvious to the family, not wanting an awkward introduction. He bumped into the brother while he was on his way out.

“You’re Hongjoong’s boyfriend.”

No filter, that’s fine. “Yes, hi, nice to meet you.”

The older grinned, landing a soft slap on Seonghwa’s upper arm. “I’m heading back; seems like he’s in good hands. Maybe I’ll see you again when Hongjoong finally brings you home for dinner. Take care.”

Seonghwa got his alone time with Hongjoong later in the afternoon, bringing him down to the courtyard in a wheelchair due to the sore in his chest when he tried to walk. He told Seonghwa he felt like he was in drama, his boyfriend taking him, a sickly patient, out for a walk, having their last deep conversation together before the lover finally dies of a fatal disease, imprinting on the boyfriend deeply. Seonghwa scolded Hongjoong for going too far, and Hongjoong faked a cough, talking raspily, as if he might hack his lungs out anytime soon. Seonghwa rolled his eyes.

“You should play the role of the caring boyfriend who offers me a handkerchief to cough into, something I’ll hold onto to my deathbed.”

Seonghwa thought of the pencil that Yeosang mentioned; one of his successful atom displacements between dimensions. Seonghwa remembered finding the pencil that he etched his initials on appearing one day longer than he remembered it to be. He paid little mind to it, but somehow it bothered him now. It was facts; physical proof that Yeosang was real. Didn’t he ask Seonghwa to meet him today at the Engineering building?

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Yea, why?”

Hongjoong paused, looking up curiously at the taller behind him. “Sorry for joking around like that. I’m fine, I promise.”

Seonghwa smiled at the other. “It’s not that.” He took a moment to observe Hongjoong’s sincere concern. “Hongjoong, you love me right?”

“Yea?”

“And you don’t care if I’m weird and all that, right?”

“Where are you going with this?”

“I need to tell you something.” The taller pushed Hongjoong towards a nearby bench, then sat on it so he could look Hongjoong comfortably in the eyes. Hongjoong saw the remorse in Seonghwa’s eyes.

“Don’t tell me this is about Yeosang.”

Seonghwa felt his chest cave. “How did you know?”

Hongjoong had hoped he was wrong, but when he found out he wasn’t, he felt old wounds reopen, revealing newly formed flesh that had just found their place in his heart. He took a moment to glance away from Seonghwa. “What about him?”

“He said their machine is ready.”

“And?”

“And despite my efforts to push it off as just a dream, I’m afraid I can see proof that it’s not.” Hongjoong didn’t know where to look. His pupils darted from the pebbled sidewalk to the concrete below them and back to his hands, picking on his nails and the dirt below it. “Hongjoong, please don’t be upset. And don’t tell me to go see a psychiatrist or something, too. I just wanted to let you know what I believe in.”

Hongjoong looked up, finally meeting Seonghwa’s eyes. “If it’s real, will you go?”

“Huh?”

“That’s all I wanna know. If it came down to it, and this damn machine is right in front of your eyes, are you going?”

“No, no, of course not.” Seonghwa picked on his sleeve nervously. “I have my own life. I have you. I have things to look forward to… I can’t just go to a different dimension just because some kid misses his lover.”

“But his lover is you.”

“No,  _ you’re _ my lover.” Hongjoong felt his cheeks flush. “I love  _ you _ , Kim Hongjoong.”

“Park Seonghwa!”

The two turned towards where the voice came from; a boy ran towards them from across the courtyard, turning faces towards him and the two that he was reaching, gasping as he neared them. Seonghwa felt blood flush from his face as he recognized the boy’s features; the red birthmark on his temple, the tall nose, the delicate mouth. 

“Y-Yeosang?” Seonghwa stuttered. “What- Why are you here? How- You went through the portal?”

“Why weren’t you there?” Yeosang tried to catch his breath from his short sprint. He was only wearing a T-shirt, and a cold wind passed, making him shiver. “Shit, it’s cold. Is it still early Spring here?”

“It is.” Hongjoong piped in. “You’re… Yeosang?”

Yeosang turned to the other, puzzled. “Sorry, do I know you?”

Hongjoong turned towards Seonghwa, who looked back at him, panic written all over his face. 

“Yeosang, I’m in the middle of something-”

“Kim Hongjoong, nice to meet you.” Hongjoong offered a smile, unconsciously holding out his casted hand. Yeosang was about to grab it, feeling a jolt of electricity rush through his fingers and running through his veins all the way to his spine as he neared the hand, but stopped when he saw that it was in a cast. Hongjoong glanced down and grinned sheepishly.

Seonghwa held an arm up between the two, turning towards Yeosang. “I’m sorry for not meeting you at the building but,” Seonghwa glanced at Hongjoong apologetically. “My friend got hurt so, I can’t go just yet.”

_ Friend. _

Yeosang looked at Hongjoong with an untelling glare, then turned to Seonghwa.

“According to my calculations, if it’s true that three years had passed here in my one year, then you have about eighteen hours. I won’t leave your side until then.”

Yeosang waited in the lobby as Seonghwa pushed Hongjoong back to his room. He helped Hongjoong back onto his bed, but they were both quiet. Hongjoong’s parents had left for the day, trusting Seonghwa to take care of their son. Now Hongjoong wished Seonghwa would disappear and for his parents to return. Even so, he couldn’t help but reach for Seonghwa’s hand when he excused himself.

“Don’t leave.” 

Seonghwa could hear the tears that Hongjoong choked back.

“I’m not leaving. Just going to tell Yeosang it’s impossible for him to stay since visiting hours are over, and I’m only here as your caretaker.”

So Yeosang waited down at the courtyard, lighting a cigarette to keep himself warm.

It piqued Seonghwa’s curiosity; the whole idea of dimension travel was just daydream to him after what Yeosang had told him through his sleep. He thought it was his imagination. And yet, here he was in the flesh. He sat with Hongjoong, trying to keep his mind off the boy waiting for him outside. He glanced at the wall clock by the doorway when Hongjoong fell asleep, drowsy from the drugs that the nurses had been feeding him. He had eleven hours left to see the portal, if it was real. He stood up carefully, tracing Hongjoong’s hand cast softly.

“I’ll be back, I promise,” he whispered. As he walked out of the room with his jacket, Hongjoong blinked, letting tears roll down his cheeks. 

_ Hey moon, I don’t know if you’re listening, but… Why are you taking him away from me? What have I done wrong? I don’t think I deserve this. Please, let him come back to me in one piece... _

“So you decided to come.”

“I’m not going with you to your dimension. I only want to see the machine with my own two eyes.”

Yeosang put out his cigarette on the top of a trash can. He glanced up at Seonghwa, his expression somber, but he didn’t respond to Seonghwa’s bite. “Did you drive here?”

“Yea. I can drive us back.”

“Okay.”

“How did you get to the hospital?” were the first words uttered in the car. The road was almost empty at midnight, leaving them to ponder their thoughts in the peaceful night. Suddenly, Yeosang felt like the man was a stranger; he was not the Seonghwa he met in his dreams, sweet and agreeable. This Seonghwa was stiff, or maybe he was angry at Yeosang for some reason, or maybe Yeosang was angry at him, making him look at the other in a different light.

“I Ubered.” 

“How did you know where I was?”

“Your roommate was kind enough to tell me. And pay for my Uber. Tell him I said thanks.”

How did San know where Seonghwa was?

“So… the Engineering building?”

“Is that Hongjoong guy important to you?”

Seonghwa turned silent at the question. Of course, Yeosang had a reason to be impatient with Seonghwa. He was acting differently from how he was in the dreams that they met, but there was a reason behind it.

“Yeosang, I’ll be honest. I didn’t think you were real.”

“I sent you physical proof-”

“That I later realized was a legitimate reason to believe in you, but it took too long. Three years is a long time, your visits started feeling like a fever dream. In that time, I fell in love and found a reason in life, and maybe…”

“Maybe what?”

_ Maybe you should move on and get a life of your own, _ but even in his head it sounded harsh, and Seonghwa didn’t want to hurt Yeosang any further. “Nothing. But yes, Hongjoong is someone important to me, and that’s why I won’t follow you to your dimension. You did a good job with the machine if you managed to get here, I’m sure you’ll find other purposes for it.”

“The purpose of the machine was to get  _ you _ , Seonghwa.”

“Then find a different me.”

They kept quiet after that, Yeosang upset at the other’s stubbornness, and Seonghwa knowing that saying anything more would just be pushing it. When they arrived at the Engineering building, Yeosang cursed, his student ID not working with the unregistered doors.

“They unlock doors at 10 on Sundays,” Yeosang informed. “Not much leeway from then; only an hour before I vanish into thin air.”

“Should we go somewhere?”

“You’re going to buy me beer from the gas station just off that corner,” Yeosang pointed past the junction that drives out of campus. “And we’ll wait for the door to unlock here.”

Seonghwa realized in the air conditioned store of the gas station that Yeosang didn’t need to do much to make people follow his words. Which meant that it probably frustrated him that Seonghwa wouldn’t go with him. It wasn’t Seonghwa’s problem; or at least, he tried to convince himself it wasn’t. The younger had lit another cigarette when Seonghwa came back, sitting with his back on the wall adjacent the big glass doors of the entrance. He was wearing a sweater that Seonghwa had found in the backseat of his car, warmer now with the extra layer. 

“You smoke a lot,” Seonghwa stated blatantly. 

“Only when it’s cold,” Yeosang replied, taking the bag of beer cans from Seonghwa’s hand uninvited. “Or if it’s cannabis.”

Seonghwa watched as Yeosang gulped the can mercilessly, scrunching his eyebrows and sighing heavily when it emptied. He blinked and took another drag of his cigarette. The taller sat crossed legged next to Yeosang and opened his own can, taking a sip; it wasn’t nice to let someone drink alone. 

“Ya know,” Yeosang started, breaking the silence. “I thought I’d be happy to see you. A year. A year thinking of you as dead. But here I am, realizing now that you’re not my Seonghwa, and that you’re in love with some other guy who’s probably a much better character than I am.” He took another drag, turning towards the taller. “It’s good to know you’re real though. That you’re actual flesh, warm and alive.”

Seonghwa rolled his fist, then undid them, spreading his fingers wide. In his chest, he wanted to touch Yeosang, just to make sure that he wasn’t a ghost or a hologram, a trick of the mind. He returned Yeosang’s gaze, his eyes softer than before, remembering how pretty Yeosang was, from his doe eyes to his high cheekbones and thin lips, the red birthmark barely visible in the dark. “How do you know if I’m warm?”

“My Seonghwa was warm so I just assumed you are too.” Yeosang smirked, leaning closer to Seonghwa. “And if not, then that’s okay, since you won’t come with me anyway.”

“Even if you find other Seonghwas they will all say the same thing; and you’ll realize that none of them will replace the one you knew.”

“That’s exactly what Seonghwa would say.”

“Which one?”

Seonghwa realized that Yeosang was touching his shoulder with his chin at this point, his blushed cheeks in full view for Seonghwa to admire and fawn over, hot blood trailing through his back. He was only human, for wanting to kiss the boy so bad, so easy to take advantage of with the alcohol in his veins. Seonghwa pushed Yeosang away by the shoulder with his index finger. Warmth. Yeosang was warm. And Yeosang thought the same of Seonghwa’s fingertips.

“I know you have a boyfriend,” Yeosang drawled. “But can I at least lay my head on your shoulder? It’s the least you can do for pretending to like me in our dreams.”

_ Our  _ dreams.

“My shoulder’s boney,” Seonghwa told. He patted his thigh as an invitation. “It’s the least I can do.”

Yeosang fell asleep almost immediately with the cushion of Seonghwa’s leg, watching the empty dark blue sky above them. He missed the unpolluted sky in their dreams, where stars blinked and glimmered happily, rewarding them for the darkness that consumed them. Seonghwa didn’t sleep; instead he continued sipping on his beer, checking his phone every few minutes. Hongjoong hadn’t contacted him, and he wondered if he should text first. 

It won’t take long. He shouldn’t worry Hongjoong with an unnecessary text. He’ll be back before Hongjoong even realizes he was gone.

Seonghwa tapped Yeosang’s arm when he heard the door lock unlatch. He sat up and wiped some drool that had dribbled down his chin, and Seonghwa smiled endearingly at the act. The younger led him through the doors and up a flight of stairs, finding the lab easy before opening the closet door. 

“Yeosang?” 

“Wooyoung!” 

“Did you get him?” 

Yeosang turned towards Seonghwa, ignoring Wooyoung’s question. “Is this what you wanted to see?”

Seonghwa observed the machine, amazed at the sputter of electrolytes keeping the portal open. Yeosang demonstrated putting his foot through the opening, and Seonghwa watched as it disappeared on the other side, awestruck. 

“Yeosang, what’s going on?” Wooyoung’s voice murmured through.

“Are you sure you don’t want to at least go through it for a minute?”

Seonghwa hesitated. His curiosity got the better of him. Yeosang watched Seonghwa, knowing that he had softened. He didn’t want the taller to stay with him; he just wanted to feed Seonghwa's thirst for adventure. If his Seonghwa was still alive, he would be proud of Yeosang for getting this far. Instead, Yeosang found a different Seonghwa, one who was still alive, one who belonged to  _ this _ dimension. Seonghwa looked at Yeosang with wide eyes of admiration.

“It’s safe, right?”

“Watch.”

Yeosang slipped himself through the portal, trusting that Seonghwa would come closer to see him from the other side to make sure Yeosang was in one piece. He observed the yellow glow from the beam lighting up Seonghwa’s features as his mouth gaped, seeing Yeosang and Wooyoung on the other side. Yeosang felt a trail of relief fall through his chest, a soft smile forming; he knew that even if he couldn’t bring back his dead lover, he still had Wooyoung by his side. Seonghwa closed his eyes as he pushed his head through the buzz, his eyes wide as he saw the similar room but in a totally different dimension. He glanced curiously at an anonymous boy, a beauty mark under one of his sad eyes, noting that he was staring back at Seonghwa. He offered a hand, and Yeosang watched as Seonghwa reached for it.

With the touch of his finger tips with Wooyoung’s palm, the two vaporized from Yeosang’s sight. 

The walls surrounding Yeosang dissolved and everything before him disappeared in a scatter, trailing as it vanished, then leaving him to float alone in a void.

Yeosang felt his face turn pale.

It was a familiar feeling; being in this dark abyss. A welcoming guilt ate Yeosang from the inside, making him jump in panic, looking around if there was anything to hold onto, anything to see, anything at all, to tell him where he was. 

“Is anybody there?” he shouted, almost breaking into fearful tears. His voice echoed, but he didn’t know what it bounced against. “Anybody?”

“This is the twenty fourth time you broke dimensions, Kang Yeosang.”

Yeosang turned towards the voice. Behind him were two identical figures standing a foot apart from each other; they had sharp facial features, eyes glaring at Yeosang in anguish, thin lips turned down. They looked familiar, but Yeosang couldn’t pinpoint where he had met them. He approached the two, taking steps on a floorless ground. 

“Twenty… four?”

“You wouldn’t remember, because when we turn back time for you, you lose your memories.” The one that spoke was on the left, wearing a plaid shirt over khaki pants. Seonghwa’s roommate.

“What do you mean, you turned back time?”

“Every time you destroy the dimension you are placed in, we need to put you somewhere.” The one that stood on the right wore a sweater that bore Yeosang’s campus insignia, jeans and dusted sneakers.

“I destroyed my dimension?”

“Both dimensions; yours and Park Seonghwa’s,” said the plaid.

“And by destroy you mean…”

“Vanish. Cease to exist. Kaput.” The one in a sweater grimaced.

Yeosang fell on his knees, his heartbeat throbbing at his throat.

“So Seonghwa’s… gone?”

“And so is Wooyoung, and Kim Hongjoong.”

“None of them left… at least, not in those two dimensions.”

“There are an infinite number of dimensions, some of them will have those people, and some will not. Just like how Park Seonghwa didn’t exist in your dimension.”

“He didn’t… exist?”

“It’s too bad, how your old memories remain, but these do not.” The plaid sulked.

“The dimension that you were born in was destroyed because you attempted to revive Park Seonghwa there as well. However, it was destroyed at the mere start of your particle exchange machine, causing a rupture in the dimension before you even got far enough with your experiment.”

“The programming was all wrong. Funny, how not all physicists are computer geeks.”

“In this dimension, you had met your Park Seonghwa; only he was born with a different father, and was named Jung Wooyoung instead.”

Yeosang felt his breath hitch. “The music, the handwriting…”

“The way he loved you too,” the sweater sighed, his head tilting slightly. “I would feel sorry for you if you didn’t constantly make our jobs harder.”

“And let’s not forget how you took Park Seonghwa from his Kang Yeosang in his dimension… the dimension where you were born in the city and was brought up to love the arts, deciding to become a fashion designer, but was only able to get admitted into a state school.”

“Kim Hongjoong.” Yeosang whispered the name as if it was a familiar stranger, remembering his curled smile as he greeted Yeosang.

“He was about to change the system of the art school in that dimension, you know?” the plaid continued. “Deemed as creme de la creme, he would propose new courses that would be more valuable for his department.”

“But well, fate had other plans.” The sweater grimaced again, turning towards his twin; no, his other self, a self from a different dimension. The plaid returned the glance before looking back at Yeosang. “Or should we say  _ you  _ had other plans?”

“I-I’m s-sorry, I-I didn’t know-” Tears started streaming down Yeosang’s cheeks, his eyebrows furrowed at the top of his head, his jaw slacking, hoping to let in air for him to breathe. There was no breathing for Yeosang at this point. It slowly came to him; all his failed experiments, all the Seonghwas he had at the tip of his fingers, almost, almost, but never close enough. All he could think of was the suffering he went through after Seonghwa’s death, but not the consequences of his actions; the consequences that had broken dimensions twenty four times now. It felt like a never ending loop; a nightmare where he had to relive creating the machine and destroying the universe, again, and again, and again.

“Of course you didn’t know, silly,” the plaid smiled sarcastically, dimples curved into his cheeks. “You don’t have the memory of making those mistakes, no matter how many times you made them.”

“We’re kind of tired of playing with you, so for your twenty-fifth dimension, we’ll let you keep your memories.”

“Maybe if you remember, you’ll avoid making the same mistakes.”

The sweater crossed his arms. “Maybe.”

“You just need to remember that the same person from different dimensions can never touch each other, okay honey?”

“Well that’s kind of hard if they don’t look the same or have the same name, isn’t it?”

“That’s where the fun is.” The plaid grinned again, and Yeosang felt the hairs behind his neck stand.  _ What are they? _

“I did try to warn Wooyoung,” the sweater sighed at Yeosang.

“While I set you right into your own trap,” the plaid giggled.

“Can you stop setting things on fire, Choi San?”

“Only when you stop trying to take the fun out of things, Choi San. Might as well play while we’re stuck in this loop. With this kid.”

“Let’s hope he’ll stop trying to mess with the universe again.”

“Naw, that’s our job.”

“You better do it right this time, Kang Yeosang.”

-

When Yeosang woke up, he was in his dorm room. He sat up on the bottom bunk, looking out the single window in the room. The trees were green, luscious. The air smelled like Gatorade mixed with sweat, and the sun was bright. He felt for his phone from his back pocket, observing the date. 

He was sent back a year; the semester after Seonghwa’s death. 

Yeosang stood up and shuffled around the room. He looked at himself in the mirror provided by the dorm, hung above a dresser. He cupped his face and squeezed on his cheeks, his hair an inch shorter. A year younger. Yeosang would have to go through the changing of seasons again. When was the last time he felt the humid summer air? It felt like lifetimes ago. He looked through his backpack and found his stationary bag, peering inside to see Seonghwa’s wooden pencil; long and unused. They let him keep his stuff. He then browsed through his things, unpacking his clothes and hanging some in the shared closet. When his shelled luggage was half empty, he paused to stare out the window, sitting himself down on one of the two desks that stood against the wall opposite the bunk bed. 

He remembered everything. From the first experiment, where he prematurely tested the machine, to the next where he got a bit further, but once he touched the yellow beam the machine exploded in his face and he was sent back into a void. It was the thirteenth attempt when he was able to make contact with a Park Seonghwa from a different dimension, only he wasn’t very welcoming of Yeosang, being a forty year old married man. 

The seventeenth time, he met Jung Wooyoung, as his roommate. He didn’t tell Wooyoung about his project in that dimension; he passed without building an intimate relationship with Yeosang. The machine he worked on that time short circuited. Yeosang wondered how he was still alive; maybe  _ that _ was the game that the Chois played. 

On the twenty second time, he told Jung Yunho, the boy from the room next door, his secret, and was immediately reported to the Head of Department. When he couldn’t move forward with his experiment, he ripped the universe trying to move to a different dimension himself. It was the first time he created a portal. It didn’t go well; the opposite dimension rejected Yeosang's body, causing an immediate collapse when he reached his arm through.

Yeosang remembered how Jung Wooyoung felt on his skin; his Wooyoung, from the twenty fourth dimension. And he remembered how Park Seonghwa, the one from the world he was born in, felt in comparison. He looked down at his palm. This body that he had been given. It seemed to remember everything else that Yeosang couldn’t; the mistakes that he subconsciously avoided through each loop. What hurt him most was remembering all the people’s lives he had destroyed for his little experiment.

The doorknob clicked before a boy with a robust figure walked in through the entrance, his eyes round and lips pursed. Yeosang looked at him curiously; he had never met this person in his previous loops, or at least, not that he remembered.

“Hi, you must be Kang Yeosang,” the boy greeted, a sweet smile forming slowly as he took off his shoes before entering. He carried a hefty duffel bag over one shoulder and a plastic bag filled with groceries on the other hand, placing the heavier of the two by the restroom door before approaching Yeosang with an offering hand. “Saw the name on the door. I’m Choi Jongho. Looks like we’re roommates for the semester.”

“Nice to meet you,” Yeosang said softly as he shook the other’s rough palm, his voice suddenly unfamiliar even to himself. They chatted for a bit while Jongho unpacked his snacks, lining them up on the other desk; light conversation about where they were from, what year they were in, what their majors were.

“Computer Science.” Jongho rolled his eyes, smiling sheepishly. “I know, typical. Job market and all that. But I actually like programming. Solving problems gives me a weird nerdy satisfaction.”

“Huh,” Yeosang muttered. “Interesting.”

He remembered all the mistakes he had made before.

He remembered exactly how he created the machine he made with Wooyoung.

All he needed was the programming.

“Say, Jongho... do you believe in alternate dimensions?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've reached the end! Thank you so much for reading, I really appreciate kudos and comments. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Have a good rest of your day!


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